


Sweet Like Cinnamon

by allyasavestheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bickering, Bisexual Female Character, Closet Sex, F/F, From Sex to Love, Hate to Love, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Pining, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavestheday/pseuds/allyasavestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison and Erica are maids-of-honor for Lydia and Cora respectively. Things go wrong, and bickering ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for maliatae on tumblr, as part of the Teen Wolf Holiday Femslash Exchange! I hope you like it, and I hope you have a lovely rest of your holidays!

Allison could not believe Erica just said that.

“… What.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a demand. It was a tight, barely restrained statement. It was polite. Allison was polite. She didn’t lose her temper; she didn’t raise her voice, no matter how badly she wanted to. That wasn’t her way.

Lydia was allowed to rage if she wanted to, Cora was allowed to shout or throw a hissy fit if things didn’t turn out the way she wanted them to, not that either of them had. Allison, as Lydia’s maid of honor, was not. Allison had to make sure things went smoothly, make sure everything was perfect. She had to keep a level head, and get them through the next few days without a hitch.

Erica was supposed to be doing the same from her end. They were supposed to be working together to make sure that their best friends had the most magical wedding of their lives, or anyone else’s, for that matter. And right now, she was lounging on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table, lazily asking why it was imperative that they had those specific flowers when no one would even notice if they were different, so long as they were purple.

“Lydia has planned the entire decor around the wisteria, we can’t just change it now. The wedding is in three days.” When Erica didn’t seem fazed by the information, Allison repeated herself, waving a hand with three fingers up in her face. “Three!” But Erica just shrugged, batting the hand away.

Less than ten minutes ago, the flower shop called and informed Allison that it was possible that there may have been a mix up in the order, that there might not be enough wisteria, but they would see what they could do. Allison had calmly informed them that she would phone back, and hung up, panic rising in her chest.

“How are they going to be able to finish the canopy if there isn’t enough wisteria? It needs to drape down, it needs t- Are you even listening?”

Erica had taken out her phone, and was tapping on it, and only a raised eyebrow indicated she had heard Allison’s question.

What was wrong with this woman? Allison could not understand why she was making no effort in the finishing touches.

Not counting the dress fittings a few weeks back (and maybe Allison should have definitely counted the dress fittings), she hadn’t seen Erica since high school- no, wait, that Christmas party, junior year of university. She had been dating Boyd back then, but they broke up when Boyd decided to pursue graduate schooling in electrical engineering in New York, and Erica stayed in California at her new management job. Allison assumed it was amicable, both were Cora’s bride’s attendants, and she had seen them teasing each other when Boyd had first arrived. Still, it was strange to not think of them as an item, they’d been dating since high school.

When Allison moved to Beacon Hills second semester of sophomore year, she barely had any idea who Erica Reyes was. She knew she was quiet, and found out she had epilepsy after she had a seizure in class, but didn’t know her too well. There was no denying, even then, when her epilepsy made her pale, and her medication made her break out, that Erica was pretty. She hid it behind too-big sweatshirts, and long bangs, but she had a shy, softness that caught Allison’s eye.

By junior year, Erica must have switched meds or something, because her skin cleared up, and with came a seemingly newfound confidence. Where the years before she had been the object of ridicule, she was suddenly the object of everyone’s attention. And for all Allison could tell, Erica loved it.

And it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to admit that, yeah, Erica was hot. For a while, she had rivaled even Lydia for the most desired of their year. She stopped wearing unflattering sweatpants (not that Allison had anything against sweatpants. Sweatpants were very high up on the pants hierarchy), and walked with her head held high.

There was just something off about the way she started acting after she suddenly had the eyes of the world on her. She turned cold and smug, and Allison recognized it as the look Lydia sometimes adopted when she knew someone was trying to use her. It didn’t last long; Erica didn’t ditch Cora or Boyd, and things settled down when people realized that just because they only just realized how beautiful she was, didn’t mean she had forgotten all those years of torment.

Nowadays, she’d toned down much of the posturing. Her trademark leather jackets and blood red pout were still very much part of the daily ensemble as far as Allison could tell, but it seemed Erica had traded the corsets for tank-tops, even blouses. Two days ago, Allison had passed Erica in the hall and had almost not recognized her in a comfy cardigan and leggings.

Though there was a quiet part of her that missed the soft girl who smiled shyly at a kind “Hello”, Allison was unashamed to admit that she admired Erica’s transformation, and confidence.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated with her right now.

Allison knew she was taking on way more responsibility of the wedding than she needed to, but she had insisted. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Lydia was meticulous, and wanted to make sure everything went accordingly herself, Allison would have offered to take over everything.

So she knew it wasn’t Erica’s fault that Cora hadn’t asked her to work on the little details. The last time Allison had been involved in a wedding, granted just a bride’s attendant, that bride’s maid of honor’s only duties had been to go to the cake tastings and the dress fittings, and then the rehearsals.

Still, Erica was in management, in line to be vice president if she kept up, why wasn’t she just as anal about this as Lydia?

“Look.” Taking a deep breath through her nose, she leaned forward, and Erica’s gazed flickered up from her phone briefly at Allison, before darting away. “I get it, if you’re busy, you didn’t have to offer to-“

“It’s fine, I just ordered some baby’s breath.”

“- you can go if you wan- wait, what?” Allison looked down at the list of things that needed to be done, and ordering baby’s breath was not on the list. Why would she do that? “You did what?”

Tucking her phone down the front of her shirt, in a motion that was difficult for Allison to not follow with her eyes, Erica took her feet off the table, looking at Allison. “I ordered baby’s breath. To fill out of the canopies.” She spoke slowly, as if Allison were an idiot.

Narrowing her eyes, “But Lydia never said-“

“Good thing it’s not just Lydia’s wedding, then.” Erica shrugged on her jacket, standing.

Opening her mouth to protest, Allison realized she couldn’t, and settled with a, “You still shouldn’t have done that. Lydia won’t be happy. She hates when things aren’t done right.” Baby’s breath was not right.

 _Erica_ was right, though. Cora had been the less demanding of the two, letting Lydia take over with an indulgent smile. For the most part she had hid out with Derek, while Lydia swept vendors and their ideas out the door with an imperious hand, needing no guidance. But if Cora wanted something, or pretended to care about whether they had baby’s breath, to make Allison’s life a little easier, then that was what she was going to get. Canopies of only wisteria would have been a bit much anyways, and the white of the baby’s breath would give lovely contrast…

Not that Allison was happy Erica just sprang it on her, or that she was right about not needing to worry. If anything, her annoyance at Erica’s lack of involvement just transferred to annoyance (and maybe a little bit of envy) at Erica’s calm command.

Ignoring her, Erica headed toward the door. “Don’t frown like that, Ally. No one can see your dimples when you do.” 

“Don’t call me Ally,” she muttered, definitely not watching the sway of Erica’s hips as she strutted from the room. But she relaxed her mouth, even forcing the edges into a tense smile. At least that was one worry off her plate.

Uncapping her pen, she begrudgingly crossed “flowers” off the list.

* * *

Later that evening, when they met with the others for dinner, Lydia barely batted an eye when Erica mentioned the flowers. “Oh,” and for a second, Allison saw a flicker of irritation in her best friend’s face, and was prepared to look smug. Instead, Lydia sighed. “We’ll make do. Maybe add some to the bouquets as well?” The last question was directed at Cora, who raised her eyebrows with a rare smile.

“Whatever you want.”

Across the appetizers, Erica smirked at Allison, and she felt a distinct urge to shove a breadstick up Erica’s nose.


	2. Chapter 2

This was so nice. It was soft and warm and Allison wanted to lay here forever. Maybe even longer. Forever times infinity. It was too early to even comprehend how impossibly long that length of time was, but she knew it wasn’t long enough.

Rolling over, she pulled the downy comforter closer around her body, snuggling deeper into the cocoon she’d made. It was lovely and quiet and dark, and-

 “Let’s go, Argent, time to get up!” The door of her hotel room crashed open and slammed closed, followed by the crisp clip of heels on the tile of the kitchenette, and then muffled when they walked across the carpet.

“What the fuck?” She said, or tried to say. It probably came out sounding more like “wuh d’ fu’?”

There was no way Erica Reyes had just barged into her room at- Allison rolled over and blearily deciphered the clock on her phone- eight-fucking-fifteen in the morning. There was no way.

There was no way she was pushing open the curtains, flooding the room with white-bright light, there was no way she was standing at the end of Allison’s bed… An Allison who was only just realizing she wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or pants.

Very suddenly awake, Allison scrambled to pull the comforter over herself. Was she a twenty-six year old woman? Yes. Was she confident with her body? Yes. Was she comfortable changing in front of other women, and have done so countless times before? Yes and yes. So why was she suddenly blushing crimson at the thought of Erica seeing her naked. Or, mostly naked. When she stripped down last night, too exhausted to change, she’d left her panties on.

Erica seemed to realize at the same time Allison did that Allison was wearing next to nothing, and politely diverted her eyes. Her wolf-like grin told Allison she wasn’t above teasing. “Is it cold in here?” Erica asked, feigning concern.

Cheeks hot, Allison pulled the covers closer to her chest, feeling her hardened nipples through the sheet. “ _No_ ,” she said emphatically. Erica smirked, tossing her blonde curls, and waited. “What are you doing here?” Allison asked. “It’s way too early to be doing anything.”

“Aren’t you the one who keeps insisting on getting everything done light-years in advance? There are two days left, and the bachelorette parties are tonight-“

“Holy shit-“ Allison jumped out of the bed, tripping over the sheet she still clutched to her chest, and only just managing not to fall over, or drop the sheet, a feat she considered rather impressive. “Shit, I forgot about that, and I still need to pick up the boys’ ties, and-“ She hopped around on one foot, working it free of the tangle of bedclothes, acutely aware that her entire back was exposed.

“Already done,” Erica said, her voice a little distracted.

Allison turned around, halfway towards the bathroom, “What, when?”

Quickly diverting her eyes to her phone, Erica shrugged, “About an hour ago.”

Sweeping her eyes over Erica’s figure, Allison raised her eyebrows. “How long have you been awake?” Erica was dressed in tight black jeans, and a low cut casual tank top, but she looked immaculate. It was _eight-fucking-fifteen_ in the morning. It was rare that Allison was awake before nine if she didn’t have to be, and even then it was a pain in the ass to drag her out of bed. Getting to work at nine was a daily struggle. At this point, most people in the office knew not to approach her until she’d had at least her second cup of coffee.

“I’ve been up since five.” She said it like it was nothing. When Allison made a choked noise, her lips twisted wryly, “My epilepsy medication gives my insomnia. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep, sometimes I can’t stay asleep.” This time, at Allison’s groan, she grinned wide. “What, little miss dimple queen isn’t a morning person? I was not expecting that. I pegged you for an early bird.”

Ignoring the nickname, Allison turned away, still clutching the sheet. “You pegged wrong,” she mumbled. “I do not like mornings, I do not like people, and,” here she threw a waspish look over her shoulder, “I especially do not like morning people.”

That was a lie of course, Lydia was a morning person, as were a few of her friends (god knows why). Erica didn’t seem to mind the jab, giving a snort of amusement.

Just as Allison was pushing the door closed, the fan running, Erica called from the bedroom, “What if, while you shower, I bring you some coffee? There’s a café across the street.”

Forgetting the sheet, Allison darted out the door, “Oh my god, _yes_. Black, please. My purse is on the floor.”

Erica nodded to show she’d heard, still looking at her phone, and headed towards the door, not stopping when she opened the door and said, “You dropped something.”

Looking down, Allison realized she had been standing with the doorway cracked open in just her panties. Blushing hot ( _again!_ ), she slammed the door shut, hearing Erica’s cackle on the other side.   

* * *

Coffee shops and cafes were cute, Erica decided, but definitely not worth the wait or the prices. She had no reason to go to them for herself, really. She couldn’t drink caffeine, and had to regulate her sugar levels, so that crossed pretty much all the drinks and a couple of the pastries off the list. In high school and college she had gone to them to study with friends, but beyond that, she didn’t think she was missing too much.

Alcohol was all right in moderation, the worst it did was give her an aura, and she wasn’t enough of a dumbass to try anything too altering. It was possible that she had since outgrown any violent reactions to caffeine, she had known people who had, but it wasn’t like she was going to risk it. 

The one time she actually ordered anything, the barista fucked up and didn’t use decaf beans. Sometimes, Erica tried to tell herself that the reason those study friends didn’t ask her to study with them anymore was because she was shit at European history anyways, but she knew the seizure had been what scared them off.

“Coffee, black, please,” she told the barista when it finally came to be her turn. For a moment, she considered asking them to add an extra shot of espresso, but didn’t know how much caffeine Allison could handle, and decided against it. The shower and coffee should be enough to wake a person up, right?

"Name for the order?” the barista asked.

"Allison,” Erica replied, before realizing that wasn’t right. Before she could correct herself, the order had been passed on, and she was handing over the cash.

Behind her, a loud voice called out, “Allison, huh? Since when did you become Dimples’ personal coffee girl?”

Moving out of the way so that the barista could take the next person’s order, Erica turned to glare at a bescarfed man with curly, ashen hair. “Fuck off, Lahey, it was one time _._ ”

“It was definitely more than that. It was like… at least five times.”  He swaggered forward with a grin, spreading his arms wide.

She rolled her eyes, accepting the hug, and squeezing him tight.  “How’s the scarf industry?” Erica hadn’t seen Isaac in months. Sometimes they sent each other pouty snapchats bemoaning how hot they both were, but so often Erica got caught up in her job, and Isaac was at all sorts of shows and openings, not to mention time zone differences, that it didn’t leave much time for Skyping.

Isaac pulled away, making a face. “Excuse me, it’s more than just _scarves_. We just convinced them to start designing a line for headscarves, like hijabs, al-amiras, kh-“

Erica held up her hands, “All right, all right, I get it, fashion is important to the world, no need to go all Miranda Priestley on me.”

“I could go Miranda Priestley on your ass, you haven’t seen me going Miranda Priestley yet.”

Shaking her head, Erica grinned. “Still a such a loser. Nothing has changed.”

At that moment, the barista called out, “Allison,” and Erica looked around, half expecting to see Allison herself in the café, before remembering that she was supposed to be getting Allison coffee.

“Thank you!” she called, grabbing the hot Styrofoam cup, and getting a lid from a nearby condiments counter. The barista didn’t even acknowledge her, already busy with another customer. Noticing that other customers were tipping, Erica shoved a dollar into the tip jar, and waited for Isaac to get his latte.

“When did you get in?” She asked him. Isaac was supposed to get in before dinner the evening before, but his flight between Paris and Chicago got delayed for some reason or another, which meant he missed his flight from Chicago to Los Angeles.

He took a sip of his drink, and winced from the heat. “I nabbed a 5:30 flight this morning, got in around eight our time. I barely slept on the plane, so I’m on my fourth cup of coffee now.”

Looking at him closely, Erica saw the half moon bruises under his usually bright eyes. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to stop caffeinating, and, I don’t know, take a nap?”

Making a face, and very defiantly taking a long draught of his latte, Isaac said, “No.”

“Uh, huh.” Shaking her head, Erica looked down at her phone. It had already been about twenty minutes since she left Allison to get ready. “I should be heading back,” she said. “Allison and I need to run some errands before the bachelorette parties tonight, and,” Erica waved the coffee cup, “she needs her coffee before she’s going to be of any use, apparently.”

Isaac nodded, “That’s fine. I’ll probably go bother Boyd then.”

Laughing, Erica warned, “He too is a late sleeper. I don’t know if I would want to wake him for another hour at least.”

Isaac’s smile turned devious.

* * *

 She found Allison face down on the bed, fully dressed now, damp hair braided back.

“I come bearing coffee,” she said, standing next to the bed.

“Unghh,” Allison mumbled, holding out her hand.

“Maybe you should sit up first.”

 She did so, groaning, but definitely looking wider-awake than she had when Erica left. Her face looked refreshed, and she had even put on a spot of makeup. “Thank you,” she said, taking a long sip of coffee that had cooled enough to drink since Erica had gotten it. She moaned at the warmth, and Erica realized that she could have gone her whole life without hearing that sound. Now, it would be filed away, warming her core.

Erica watched Allison’s face, her eyes closed as she held her coffee close to her body. “Well? Are you sufficiently caffeinated? Can we leave now?”

Without opening her eyes, Allison hummed, nodding her affirmation. “Where to first?”

Pulling out her phone, Erica opened the list she had made earlier. “We have to call all of the vendors, and confirm that they have what they need, and know when they’re supposed to arrive.” Erica started ticking off items on her fingers, “That might take a while; depending on which idiots we get ahold of. Lydia and Cora are taking care of prepping payments, insurance slips, and tips so we don’t have to worry about that.  We have to confirm catering for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, because you never know what might have happened in the last three weeks, and then we also have to pick up the place cards and the various signs from the printers, and the dresses at three-“

"Lydia’s grandmother and her wife are coming in at four,” Allison reminded her. Erica made a note on the list.

“What’s Lorraine’s wife’s name again? Maggie?”

“Maddy.”

“Right. And Talia and Nathan’s coming tomorrow morning, but they’re driving in.”

Allison perked up at this, “Their rooms aren’t anywhere near Lydia’s are they?”

“I don’t know, why?”

"Lydia thinks Talia hates her, so the less they interact, the better.”

Not bothering to write that tidbit down, Erica shrugged. There was really nothing she could do about that.” Well, I think we should get going.” Erica slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll need your help with the signs, and getting the succulents for the favors into the trunk.”

Nodding, Allison stood, “Your car or mine?”

* * *

They got to the printers earlier that Erica had agreed on with the manager, but the signs had already been printed the night before, and were ready for them to pack away.

But If Erica thought the morning getting the signs had gone too smoothly, she was going to find that the afternoon onwards was not going to go quite as well.

At about twelve thirty, they hit the lunch traffic of those on their breaks, slowing things downtown considerably. Allison started to get antsy in the seat next to her, sighing every few seconds, and shifting in her seat.

"Will you stop that?” Erica snapped as they hit their third red light.

"It is almost one, we haven’t picked up any of the stupid plants, and I need to get back to the hotel by two if I want to make it to the airport, get through the traffic nightmare that is LAX, and pick up Lorraine at four,” Allison said, “And the likelihood of that happening when you drive like a blind grandmother is slim to none.”   

That was a low blow, no one insulted Erica’s driving. “Listen princess, -“

"Don’t call me that.”

'I’m doing my best to get this shit done today too,” Erica ignored the interruption.

"Not that you care,” Allison muttered, arms crossed. She looked rather childish, glowering to the window, distinctly un-Argent like.

Keeping her eyes trained on the road, Erica raised a brow, half not wanting to ask, “Why would I not care?”

"So far, you have given no indication that you really care at all about this wedding,”

What in the hell? “Jesus- what are you on about? Literally, I’m the one who woke _you_ up this morning, having _already gotten a lot of stuff done_.” Allison apparently had nothing to say to that, and Erica shook her head, “I have no idea what crawled up your ass this morning, but please, let it be gone.”

"Fine.”

“Fine.” Erica pressed on the gas pedal, perhaps more forcefully than she needed to, and jerking the car forward, only to have to stomp on the brake again when she nearly hit the car in front of them.

“Watch it!” Allison snapped, massaging her neck where the seatbelt had cut into it.

"What did we just agree on?” She knew Allison’s shout was completely warranted, but at this point, Erica was just enjoying messing with her.

"Fuck off.”

Grinning, Erica considered making a reply, but decided against it. She was going to have to deal with Allison for the next few days, and while it was fun to wind her up, Erica was also acutely aware that next to her was a runner up junior olympist. Erica may have gotten into the (disgusting) habit of running on a pretty regular basis, but she didn’t think running would help her if she really took it too far. Plus, she had seen Allison vindictive with Lydia before. It was rare, but it happened, and it was _cold_.

Glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, Erica noticed that she was frowning at her phone, a different sort of puckering between her brows than before.

She wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t her business. She didn’t care, she didn’t even really like Allison all that much as it was. She wasn’t going to ask, nope- “What’s wrong?” _Fuck_. She sighed.

Allison was silent, and Erica’s next thought was _Fine, bitch, I didn’t care all that much anyways_ , but then she said, so quietly that Erica almost didn’t hear, “I’m just worried about the wedding.”  

Jesus Christ, were they still on this. “Why are you obsessing over this?” she demanded. “So far, besides some shitty traffic, absolutely nothing has gone wrong-“

"Don't say it, you'll jinx it!"

“You have never struck me as a superstitious type.”

“This is a wedding we’re talking about, everything about it is superstitious. Blue, old, new, rain, what have you. Shit- that reminds me, I need to check the weather.” She pulled out her phone, tapping away.

 _"Anyway_ ,” Erica said, “You have no reason to worry about it. It’s going to be fine.”          

 "It’s not that, it’s Lydia too-“

“Has she finally snapped?”

"What?”

"Bridezilla? Y’know?” Erica took one hand off of the steering wheel, making a claw, and motioning vaguely towards Allison, who smacked her hand away. 

" _No_. It’s just that she’s obsessed with things being impeccable, you know?  She has to work twice as hard as every one else in her field, she always feels like she has to prove herself, even though she _doesn’t_. It’s a lot of pressure to keep up the façade of looking so well put together all the time.” Allison sighed, playing with the phone in her hands. “I just want to do something for her, you know. I want to make she sure doesn’t have to worry about this stuff.”

This time, it was Erica’s turn to be quiet.

Lydia Martin had never struck her as a particularly sympathetic person, but, of course, she was biased as Cora’s best friend. She was always going to be a little bit jealous of the girl who stole her best friend’s heart; it was just a fact of life. But there was also the dislike between them, due to Erica’s innate unpopularity, and Lydia’s effortless status, the fact that Lydia did very little to help Erica when was bullied, and then their flat out animosity when suddenly people found Erica just as attractive as they found Lydia, clearly a capital offense. For the most part, it was pretty petty, but Erica never claimed to be mature. 

It was strange to think of her as anything other than Cora’s Girlfriend, the Ice Queen. Ice Queen was a tiny bit of an exaggeration, as she was genuinely nice to Erica, and besides the occasional snark, had never been downright mean. Allison’s words made sense, Erica supposed, feeling guilty for not having seen it herself. She _lived it_. 

It was part of being whom everyone thought Erica Reyes was- badass, leather wearing, bloody lipped, vamp bitch. If she let up, she was afraid people would see the shrinking violet of a girl she had been back in middle and early high school. There was no way anyone would take her seriously. 

"That’s stupid,” she muttered, knowing it wasn’t, but not wanting to tell Allison that. Lydia would never admit it either, Erica knew.

"Fuck you,” Allison said, narrowing her eyes. “Seriously, fuck you.”

“She’s Lydia Martin, okay,” Erica shot back, realizing very suddenly that she wasn’t over the past. It was like something had opened up in her chest, and she felt every resentment she’d suppressed rise to the surface. “The rest of us mere mortals have to deal with people shitting on us every day of our lives. I’m sure she can deal.” It was mean, but Erica was bitter, which made her even angrier, that she could feel this way, unwarranted. Lydia was incredibly smart, beautiful, and effortlessly popular, and if she had some fears over not being taken too seriously, well then… Erica honestly found she didn’t care.

“She’s human just like the rest of us, what’s your problem?”

“ _My_ problem? I don’t have a problem. I didn’t have a problem in high school, not when I couldn’t go a day- no, _class period_ \- of my life without someone pretending to seize up, and all their little friends laughing about it. People filming me, _posting it online_.” Erica suppressed a shudder. “So, honestly, I’m sorry if I don’t have much sympathy for someone for whom high school was basically perfect.”

Allison seemed to be trying very carefully not to lose her temper. “Look,” she said, in a quiet, controlled voice. “I’m sorry that happened-“

“Didn’t do anything about it though, did you?”

“I came within months of your _transformation_ , I had no idea what was going on –“

"Bullshit." 

“ _And_ I’m sure Lydia would have put a stop to it, if she’d known about it.”

For a long time, Erica had reasoned the same thing. Cora loved her, and Cora would never date, let alone marry, someone who was so blatantly horrible. There is, of course, the fact that people change, and Lydia did eventually mellow out by the time Cora started dating her. “Or maybe she didn’t want to tarnish the perfect image she apparently worked so hard on by associating herself with the girl who pisses herself.”

Allison was shaking her head, not even looking at Erica anymore. “I’m not talking to you, I swear, I’m not. If I do, I may like. Bite your head off, or something.”

Erica barked out a laugh, short and cold. “That is fine by me,” refraining from spitting out ‘bitch’ at the end of that sentence. Erica really was all about girls supporting girls; really she was, but honestly. Resentments die hard, so what if she didn’t _really_ try that hard?

Less than two days until the wedding. Less than two until she didn’t have to see Allison until next Christmas or New Year or whatever. Lydia she would just have deal with if she wanted to see Cora, but there were other ways to see each other.

Stomping on the brake, intentionally this time, Erica focused on the road in front of her, and turning on to the correct streets, willfully ignoring the cold silence that had fallen between them.

Two days.

She could handle two days.


	3. Chapter 3

The headache pounding behind Allison’s temples was honestly going to be the death of her. She couldn’t tell if it was lack of sleep, caffeine withdrawal, or dealing with Erica Fucking Reyes.

She had thought the day had started out well, if slightly embarrassing on her part. But then Erica had to bring up _high school_. And that was not a place she wanted to revisit.

It wasn’t that high school for her had been terrible, certainly not on par with what Erica had to go through. She had met Lydia early, to her luck, and she did well in her classes. She was well liked, and for the first time in her life, she was able to stay at a school for more than a semester.

But it was high school, and Allison was pretty sure that high school was no one’s best time of their life. It was stress and exams and honestly, really shitty people sometimes.

Of course she felt horrible for Erica being bullied, she’d have to be a monster to not. She was sure Lydia knew nothing of what was going on, whatever Erica implied. Lydia may come off to most people as cold and apathetic, but she really was lovely, and Allison knew she would never be deliberately mean, especially if it was for something someone couldn’t help.

She'd have to talk to Erica later, set things straight. Right now though, she was too pissed off that Erica would be so insensitive to Lydia’s anxieties. She would think Erica would understand- people underestimate her all the time.

Fumbling through her purse, she pulled out a bottle of aspirin, tossing two back, and swallowing them dry. They stuck a little in her throat, and she coughed a few times, forcing them down.

Her phone read 3:45, and the flight schedule said that Maddy and Lorraine’s flight was ahead of schedule, though that could mean a mere five minutes.

About five minutes ago, Lydia had texted her a slew of messages, asking her opinion on wedding favors, and had they really made the right choice with the succulents? Maybe they should have gone with the macaroons, like Laura had suggested. But Cora had wanted something eco friendly, that would last, and on and on and on. Allison tapped out a quick response, saying that she had to put up with packing them into the back of Erica’s cherry red Mustang, with arguably little space, all while dealing with Erica’s passive aggressive comments about literally every little thing, so she better not change her mind. Especially not this late in the game.

Looking up, she saw the board read that the plane was unloading, and quickly stowed her phone into her purse, pushing her way through the madness that is LAX luggage center, and heading towards the correct luggage carousel.

When she finally caught sight of Lydia’s grandmothers a few minutes later, the two beamed and waved. Allison had met them a few times before, they visited pretty frequently when Lydia was in high school, and she’d met them at a few family parties since.

Lorraine Martin was tall and stately, dark red hair faded gray in her age, and impeccably dressed. Allison had seen photographs of her when she was younger, and it was almost startling how much she resembled Lydia. Maddy on the other hand, was slightly smaller, with dark hair and olive complexion, favoring cardigans and much more grandmotherly attire.

"Allison! Sweetie!” Lorraine called, enveloping Allison into a hug. “How are you? How’s working at the museum?” she asked, referring to Allison’s job as a French history specialist.

"It’s going really well, yeah,” she grinned, “We’re getting some new Merovingian artifacts in soon, which I’m really excited to get back to.” She quickly hugged Maddy tightly as well, then helped them pull their bags from the carousel.

The whole way home, the two were busy chattering about how exciting it was that Lydia was getting married, they hadn’t seen her in so long, she was so busy at the lab, researching her theorems. 

There was a part of her that ached to hear the support they had for their granddaughter. Her own parents had been supportive enough, but, and distance and years had given her retrospective wisdom, Allison knew that they had their own agenda. They wanted to control her then, and she knew that they were partially driven to preventing her from becoming her aunt Kate; her childhood best friend, and currently in jail for various violent crimes.

She also wished Maddy and Lorraine could have had a greater presence in Lydia’s life, especially while her parents were divorcing sophomore year. Her mother, Natalie, wasn’t terrible, but she and her ex-husband had used Lydia against each other, the way divorcing parents do, and didn’t seem to notice the ways Lydia was struggling.

Having Lorraine and Maddy around more would have done her some good, but the past is the past. Unbidden, Allison suddenly thought of Erica, and a pang of guilt and anger washed through her. Shaking it off, she smiled at what Maddy was saying, about how lovely the weather was. 

* * *

Allison held the door open for Maddy, offering her a hand to help out of the car, but she waved it away. “That’s alright dear,” she said, “I may be an old woman, but I am just as sprightly as you.” She straightened her back with a groan.

"That’s debatable,” Lorraine teased, pulling their rolling suitcase behind her.

Maddy made a face at her. “Aren’t you due for a hip replacement?” She retorted.

Kissing her wife’s cheek and taking her hand, Lorraine gestured to Allison, “Shall we?”

Allison lead the way into the hotel, helping them check in, and was just about to text Erica, when the bell of the elevator dinged, and Erica stepped out. “There you are!”

“Here I am.” Allison said. The plane had been early, and they managed to get back rather quickly, what could Erica possibly be looking for her for?

“One of Lydia’s cousins decided to show up, even though they didn’t RSVP, or replied when we called and asked them.”

“Okay…”

"I’ve fixed the seating, they’re stuck in the back, but I don’t care if they care.”

"Okay…”

"And luckily you guys made a few extra weddings gifts.”

"Okay…”

"Can you please stop that.”

“I’m waiting for you to get to the point.”

“Well, they demanded a room at the hotel. And because they’re not my cousin, I couldn’t very well use my razor sharp wit, and frankly, lack of patience, to tell them that we have no more rooms booked, or indeed, did the hotel have any rooms, because they don’t, so they could fuck off.”

“For someone with limited time or patience, you have an uncanny inability to get to the point.”

“They wanted a room, we can’t shuffle anyone else except… us.”

"Wait, what? You and I are getting moved? Where?”

"We’re moving into a double together.”

“Is the universe conspiring against me? Have I screwed up my karmic balance or something, why?"

"Listen, princess, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.”

Allison sighed, shaking her head, and had to remind herself that it was not Erica’s fault. ”I’ll go pack my stuff up then. What room are we in?”

"246,” Erica said, but when Allison turned to leave, she called after her, “Wait, Allison-“

"What? Don’t tell me we have to share a bed or something.” Allison did not want to think about that, she wasn’t going to think about that-

When she looked at Erica, Erica looked, well… panicked. “No, no, nothing like that,” she said quickly. Allison’s eyes narrowed, Erica plus panic did not bode well.

“What’s wrong?”

* * *

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Allison breathed.

Erica nodded, “I was coming out of the elevator as some idiot was running in, and, well, _crash_. I thought it just got on the box, but I opened it to lay them out, and,” she indicated, “this one-“

“Lydia’s.”

"Got a coffee make over.”

Lydia and Cora had opted to go for the traditional white dresses in complementary styles- though they had agreed not to see the other wearing them before the wedding. Now, however, the skirt of Lydia’s was splotched with brown.

Blowing air out of her cheeks, Allison said, “I’m guessing this is something a Tidestick can’t fix.”      

Erica shook her head, “I haven’t even googled it yet. I _think_ this is chiffon, but I didn’t know, and I figured I would wait for you to get back”

"Well, at least you didn’t fuck that up.”

"Fuck you, it’s not my fault he was carrying coffee,”

"Maybe you should look where you were going,”

"Again, not my fault he was running into the elevator.”

Rationally, Allison knew that it wasn’t Erica’s fault, and she was being unreasonable. It didn’t stop her from wanting to continue snapping at her, however undeserved it was. Taking a deep, slow breath through her nose, she counted to five, then again for good measure. They had agreed to stop bitching at each other.

When she opened her eyes, Erica was watching her, red mouth still puckered with irritation, but her brows had smoothed out, and she was looking at her expectantly. For a moment, Allison wondered why she was deferring to her, but decided it had to due with the dress being Lydia’s, not Cora’s, and Lydia being her best friend. She found it unlikely that Erica, who, when she actually felt like doing a task, made all of her own decisions, would ask her opinion on anything. Re: baby’s breath. Goddamn baby’s breath.

“Okay. I don’t know what the fuck you’re supposed to do for satin chiffon… probably dry-cleaning, right? Can you see if you can find a dry cleaners in the area?”

Erica nodded, pulling out her laptop.

Allison’s headache was quickly returning. They still had so much to get done without this getting in the way as well.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. They both froze, locking eyes.

"Who knows this is our room?” Allison whispered.

“Besides housekeeping, Lydia and Cora…”

The person knocked again, more insistently this time.

Clearing her throat, “Yes?” Erica asked in a light voice. Praying it was housekeeping, they waited.

"Erica?” It was Lydia.

"Shit,” they said simultaneously. Then Erica jumped to her feet, shoving the dresses into the box.

“Careful!” Allison hissed. Erica flipped her off, grabbing the box and shoving it underneath the duvet. “Very inconspicuous.”

Erica indicated the sparse room, “Well, Argent, I don’t see where else you want to hide it. That’s literally point of minimalist furniture.” Allison was about to say the bathroom, the closet, the dresser, literally anywhere, when there was another knock.

"Erica, is Allison in there?”

Allison looked to Erica, eyes wide. “Uh…” Erica started.

“Lorraine said she saw her with you, can I come in?”

"Uh, yeah, she’s right here… just a sec.” Erica called, sitting on the bed in front of the large bulge that was the poorly hidden dresses. Allison could hear the corner of the box crumple, and cringed. “She’s coming right now!” Erica said, pointedly nodding at her. Allison threw her hands up, only just catching sight of Erica’s sneer as she turned away.

Opening the door, Allison smiled down at her best friend, “Hey Lyd, what’s up?”

A single eyebrow rising, Lydia peered around her, “Can I come in?” she asked. “Or are you two busy… with something?”

Not daring to look back at Erica, Allison shook her head, “Oh, no, of course, we weren’t doing anything, no, no, nope, come on in.”

Lydia glided past, greeting Erica briefly. Turning, Allison glanced at Erica over Lydia’s head. Erica rolled her eyes, shaking her head with exasperation and disgust.

"Well,” Lydia said, her eyes lingering on the rumpled covers of the bed, and then giving Allison a knowing look that she didn’t understand. “I wanted to apologize to you guys about having to switch rooms, of course. I don’t even know _why_ we invited that cousin, but no matter. I know you guys have had your differences in the past,” at this, Erica snorted, and Lydia continued as though there had been no interruption. “But it looks like you guys have already been working that out, so I’m not too worried.”

Exchanging a look with Erica, Allison tried to figure out what that was supposed to mean. “It’s fine, Lydia, really. It’s just for a few days, we’ll be fine.”

Lydia nodded, a smirk playing on her lips. “Uh huh,” she said. “Anyways, I also wanted to ask you about the dresses-“

"They’re not ready yet,” Allison said quickly, at the same time Erica shouted, “The dress people are closed on Wednesdays!” Glaring at Erica, whose eyes had closed and couldn’t see her, Allison quickly said:

“The dress people are closed today, and the dresses aren’t ready, so we’re getting them tomorrow.”

Looking between them, Lydia lifted one of her perfectly sculpted brows, nodding slowly. “Okay… well, that’s fine. I was going to say that I’d like to try on the dress one last time before picking it up…. So I’ll give them a call and make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon then-“

“You know, Lydia, why don’t you let us do that?” Erica interrupted. “We aren’t doing anything right now, why don’t you go get ready for the parties tonight.”

“Well, they’re hardly parties-“ Lydia started, but Erica jumped up, gently pushing her towards the door.

"No, really, it’s all fine, it’s fine. We just have to make a few calls anyway, it’s fine, go read about astrophysics or something-“ Erica pulled the door open, trying to shoo her through.

"Do not condescend to me, Erica Reyes,” Lydia said in the doorway. She turned to Allison a ‘can you believe this?’ look on her face, to which Allison grimaced, not even having to pretend to be annoyed for Lydia’s sake, because honestly, Erica was a terrible liar. “Anyways, Ally, I was thinking we should place food orders around eight or nine, I was thinking from The Palace? Unless you had any suggestions?”

Allison shook her head quickly. “Nope!”

“Okay,” Lydia looked between them, “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing then.” With that, she swept from the room, pulling the door soundly closed behind her.

Erica spun around, “You are the worst liar.”

“ _I_ am?” Allison laughed, “She who says that the dressmakers is closed on Wednesdays thinks that _I_ am the worst liar.”

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t stand in the doorway,” she pitched her voice up a couple of octaves, “Oh, no, Lydia, uhm, of course Erica and I weren’t doing anything, uhm, come on in.’” Dropping the falsetto, “She probably thought we were fucking.”

“Yeah right, like I would ever fuck you,” Allison snorted, turning to the bed to hide the pink of her cheeks, pulling back the covers to reveal the now crumpled box.

“I never said I would either,” Erica said after a pause, “Just saying what Lydia probably thought.”

“How are we supposed to explain to them that you ruined their box?” Allison said, ignoring Erica’s comment.

“I think the bigger question is what the fuck we’re going to do about a) the stains, b) Lydia wanting to do a dress fitting when we’ve already picked up the dresses.”

Allison took a deep breath – and honestly, she was considering starting yoga at this point, with the amount of deep breathing she had been doing this week – and considered the dresses in front of her. “Okay, hang Cora’s up for now, I guess. I’ll call the dress shop and then the dry cleaners, and then, we’ll, I don’t know. Get through tonight without letting anything slip.”

Erica nodded, unfolding the dress and shaking it out. For a second, she held it up against her body, and Allison paused, disconcerted by how vividly she was able to envision Erica walking down the isle, wearing a wedding dress, and how beautiful she would look.

But then, she didn’t think Erica would opt for the white-dress wedding. Erica seemed more the type to get spur of the moment married, maybe in Vegas or something, studded leather jacket and smelling of cigarette smoke.

Allison didn’t even think Erica smoked.

But the image pervaded; the bloody lips curled up into a smirk, day old eyeliner smudged across bloodshot eyes, a road trip without a map. For a moment, Allison thought she could taste whiskey on her tongue, and a hand sliding up her thigh in the backseat of a mustang.

She startled at the sound of someone snapping their fingers. Blinking, Allison met Erica’s eyes, the blonde’s eyebrows high. “I don’t know where you went, but we have a lot of shit to get done, a lot of phone calls to do-”

Irritated, and more than a little embarrassed, Allison snapped, “So why don’t you do it?”

Quickly, she turned away, heading towards the door. She needed to pack and move her stuff anyways. Not bothering to tell Erica where she was going, she closed the door with a slam, taking a deep breath.

Less than two days.

She could survive two days.


	4. Chapter 4

“So how’s rooming with Dimples?” Cora asked.

“Literally, I called her that _once_. One time.”

“I think it was more than that…”

“Have you been talking to Isaac?” Erica popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth, frowning at Cora.

Malia laughed as she handed Cora her wine – because they were classy fuckers, that’s why. It’s also why they had them in coffee mugs; mostly because they did not want to deal with requesting wine glasses. Adulthood level not reached: making phone calls to the front desk of a fancy hotel.

Allison and Erica had seriously threatened to throw proper bachelorette parties for their friends, strippers and all, but they knew Cora would be uncomfortable, and Lydia unimpressed, so they opted against it. Instead, in what felt like a Saturday night from high school, they were wearing pajamas and watching movies. The only thing they had insisted on was that the boys weren’t allowed to come.

They ended up dividing pretty evenly, Erica, Laura and Malia for Cora in Malia’s room, Allison and Kira in Kira’s for Lydia- though Kira and Malia had stopped by the others’ party, briefly. Kira and Cora were pretty close in high school, being the only girls on the lacrosse team, and Malia and Lydia were on the math team together.

The two groups had meshed quite well, even before Lydia and Cora started dating. Malia had dated Stiles in high school, and Scott and Stiles had been friends with Erica and Cora long before Lydia swooped in. But old habits die hard, and it was only natural that the two groups would separate out the way they had.

"First of all,” Erica said, raising a finger, ready to set the record straight. “If I called her ‘Dimples,’ it simply means I was commenting on a prominent feature of her face.” Across from her, Malia imitated her finger waving. Dropping her index finger, Erica flipped her off, eliciting laughter from Laura and Cora. “Second of all, rooming with her is fine. So far there hasn’t been any rooming-“

"Because you’ve been too busy trying out the bed-“ Cora muttered.           

" _Because_ ,” Erica raised her voice, “we only just got moved in together, and now I’m here. No time to ‘room,’ as you put it.”

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about it. She’d flat up seen everything when she went to wake Allison up that morning, though she pretended she hadn’t for Allison’s sake. And it wasn’t like before she’d never considered it, or thought extensively about it, or anything like that.

But there was also the fact that she didn’t particularly even like Allison though. She was nice and all, and definitely attractive, but honestly, she wasn’t Erica’s type. She told them as much.

Laura raised an eyebrow, “And what’s that exactly?”

"Someone who… I don’t know, doesn’t take anyone’s shit, for starters.”

"Have you met Allison? Whose shit is she taking?”

"Lydia’s. Lydia is such an overbearing b-“ Erica was interrupted by Cora clearing her throat loudly. “Allison’s a push over. She’s letting Lydia order her around, like her personal slave or something.”

"Does that make me a pushover as well then?” Cora inquired, her expression mirroring Laura’s.

"The biggest, I would think,” Malia said, seeming to actually consider it. Cora threw a pillow at her.

 Erica did not even bother trying to come back from that. “Ugh, never mind.”

"We’re just teasing because we love you,” Laura said, moving the popcorn out of the way so that the now wrestling cousins would not spill it all over the bed.

"I think you mean ‘torment’ and ‘hate,’” Erica said, taking a small swallow of her wine.

Pushing Malia away, Cora sat up, moving her hair out of her face. “Honestly, if you guys have a problem, we can figure something out, you don’t have to share a room.”

"No, really, it’s fine. It’s just bitching and stuff, it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

"Really, ‘cause-“

"Why are we talking about me? Aren’t we supposed to be talking about your undying love for Lydia and how gross it is?”

Cora shrugged, “Mostly because we all know how much I love Lydia.” Though her words were blunt and to the point, her voice had gone soft. Cora was like Derek in that she was usually pretty reserved in expressing the softer things she felt, but when she talked about Lydia, it showed how crazy she was about her. “I’m getting married in less than forty-eight hours,” she sighed with a smile, taking a sip of her wine. Behind her, Malia and Laura pretended to gag into their mugs.

Erica smiled, and laughed with them when Cora turned around to scowl at them, but stopped fairly quickly, looking down at her hands.

She knew, and Cora knew, that maybe Erica had had a teeny-tiny crush on Allison in high school, but like, she had a horrible crush on _Stiles_ , her high and middle school self had some questionable judgments’ on who she crushed on, with the exception of Boyd. Boyd was like wine, he just kept getting better and better as they got older…she wished they could have worked out...

But that’s irrelevant.

Of course, Allison was beautiful, she was gorgeous, she was smart, and frustratingly easy to like. Everyone liked Allison. Cora had said once, way back when, that Erica simply didn’t want to like Allison on principle.

It was only a little true.

So what? It didn’t hurt anyone if all they did was snip at each other. Allison could play perfect princess, play Lydia’s game of perfume and roses, charming everyone who crosses her path. Erica didn’t care. Erica had way better things to think about than Allison’s smile, or the way her brows scrunched up when she was frustrated or concerned. She didn’t care about Allison’s passion, the spark in her eyes, or the way her whole body lit up when she threw herself into something. The memory of Allison moaning at her coffee did not cross her once.

Fuck all that.

She knew at least a half a dozen people who did not dive her up the wall who she would rather think about. Did Erica find her objectively attractive? Yeah, she wasn’t going to lie about that. Did she find any other aspect of her attractive? No, she would not admit to that.

Who needed a stuck up prissy princess anyways?

"So guys, who do you _like_?” Malia asked mockingly, eyebrows quirking as she looked around at the group.

"God,” Cora groaned, “I swear, this is high school all over again.”

If Erica agreed with that statement for her own reasons, there was no way she was going to admit that either. Just add it to the pile of things she was staunchly ignoring. It was getting to be a pretty big heap.

* * *

"Now I’m not saying that you two are being a little ridiculous, but you two are being ridiculous.” Lydia breezed past Allison when the microwave beeped. Kira got up with her, pulling out the paper plates and plastic forks she had brought and opening them.

"It’s not ridiculous,” Allison said. “Immature, perhaps. Ridiculous, no.”

Scooping lo mein on to each of the plates, Lydia said, “I don’t think those words are usually mutually exclusive.”

Allison hadn’t been able to talk to Erica since the catastrophe with the dress, so there had been no chance to set the record straight about Lydia- even though Allison didn’t really know what the record was with Lydia. They had had to call all of the vendors, and arrange for the dress to be dry cleaned and dropped off at the store before tomorrow afternoon, when Lydia wanted to do a final fitting, all before the bachelorette parties.

Handing Allison her plate, Kira asked, “Did Erica say what her problem was?”

Nodding, Allison twirled the thick noodles around her fork. “Yeah,” she said, not sure if she really wanted to bring it up in front of Kira. She loved Kira, and they had all been friends for years, but she didn’t think Lydia would appreciate being put on the spot, in front of their friend, if Allison suddenly asked her if she knew about people or participated in bullying Erica.

"Well?” Lydia demanded, her hand raised imperiously for Allison to continue.

Wanting to give Lydia a look to show her that maybe she didn’t want Allison to tell them, but unable to meet Lydia’s eyes as she was looking down at her plate of food, Allison grimaced. “Well, she brought up high school…. and she _claims_ that you didn’t do shit about her being bullied about her epilepsy.”

Lydia’s fork stilled, and she still didn’t look at Allison, except this time Allison thought it might be intentional. Her brows had contracted, and she was staring hard at her food.

Uncertain now, Allison continued, “This was really before I came to Beacon Hills, but I told her you probably didn’t know about it, and if you had, you’d have done something about it.”

Lydia was nodding, which loosened some of the sudden tightness in Allison’s chest. “I didn’t know for a while,” she said. She set her fork down, looking as though she had lost her appetite. “I found out because of Jackson’s friends, upperclassmen on the lacrosse team. I didn’t even know her before that. I told them not to, that it was stupid, but I was just a sophomore, they didn’t care what I had to say.”

She shrugged and took a long sip of her wine. Allison saw out of the corner of her eye that Kira was trying not to appear to be listening that hard, even though she was sitting right next to them, and Allison felt guilty for bringing up their problems, sort of excluding her.

"I tried to get them to stop teasing her,” Lydia said finally. “I did, but she’s right. I could have tried harder, but I didn’t. Jackson was pissed I even tried, he thought it was funny.” Her lips twisted with disgust, but then smiled wickedly when she said, “He didn’t think it was funny when she called him out on it the next year in front of the entire cafeteria.”

Though Allison was in no position to forgive Lydia for not helping Erica more, she nodded her understanding. She heard what Lydia wasn’t saying, about not trying as hard because she didn’t want to lose the little power she had by defending someone like Erica, exactly as Erica had said. But just because she understood it didn’t make it right, and she knew it probably actually made it worse.

Kira chose that moment to ask Lydia about her and Cora’s honeymoon, for which Allison was grateful, because she might have understood, but still wasn’t feeling particularly cordial towards her best friend at that moment.

She knew Lydia was a good person, and she and Erica got along well now. But she remembered the Lydia she met her first day of school: calculated, popular but nearly friendless. She had been fifteen and alone, which didn’t excuse her actions, but certainly explained them. Allison didn’t want to talk to Erica about this anymore, but knew she should.

Getting up to get an egg roll, Allison thought about the car ride with Erica earlier in the afternoon.

Erica understood Lydia better than Allison did sometimes, Allison thought, and she wondered how much of it had to do with them being very similar people. Strong willed, imperious, hiding their softer sides behind hard, particular outsides. She knew, of course, that description could apply to any number of them, but she thought it was really quite interesting their power dynamic.

In high school – god, so long ago, was it really eight years already? – Lydia knew she was looked up to, and she thought that in order to maintain that status, she had to act a certain way. This usually involved a mixture of being-above-the-masses, and deigning to grace the masses with her presence. Allison wasn’t actually sure how she managed to navigate that carefully wrought tightrope.

Erica on the other hand had shown up one day, mini skirt and bloody lips, and knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t what Beacon Hills had to offer. It was impossible to misunderstand the school’s sudden interest in her, and she knew it, and thus, she reviled them and showed it. For some reason, even though things mellowed out eventually, people still seemed to fear and admire her.

Lydia was kinder than she usually seemed, and Allison had come to realize that Erica was softer and more emotional than her devil may care attitude suggested.

Getting up to get an eggroll, Allison shook her head. There was a difference between sympathizing with someone, it was another thing entirely to create Venn diagram contrasting her and her best friend.

But maybe she had been too hard on Erica earlier, snapping at her. Erica wasn’t faultless, giving as good as she got, but she wasn’t terrible.

"…. With Scott, and then Erica’s with Boyd-“ Lydia was saying as Allison was sitting down.

"What?” Allison sat down hard, startled by what Lydia had just said. “Erica’s with Boyd?”

Kira nodded, “Yeah, they were talking about it before dinner.”

Allison couldn’t explain the sudden clenching in her stomach, or the way her egg roll suddenly did not seem at all appealing. Setting it down her plate, she wiped her fingers on a napkin, grimacing.

"Something wrong with the eggroll, Allison?” Lydia asked.

Not looking up, Allison shook her head, “No, it’s fine. I thought I was hungry, but I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is possible you noticed that I tweaked their ages and the timeline in Lydia's story. The show's timeline is very skewed and inconsistent, so I played with it a little. Therefore in this verse, Allison comes second semester of sophomore year, which is also around the same time Lydia and Cora meet and start flirting/dating (as second semester is also when lacrosse starts up). Erica's "transformation" happens in the summer before junior year.


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, we have forty minutes between Lydia and Cora’s spa appointment and the dress fitting. I just called the dry cleaners though, and they said the dress wasn’t going to be ready until 2, which gives us fifteen minutes to get it from the cleaner to the dress shop, and Allison, I swear, are you even listening?”

Erica looked over to where Allison was nursing a cup of coffee, even though it was twelve thirty, and she had already showered. She was frowning a little at something on the floor, her eyes glassy.         

Sighing, Erica took two steps towards her, snapping her fingers in front of her face. It was another moment before Allison jerked to awareness. “How much did you drink last night?” Erica asked.

Frown deepening, “Barely any.”

“Then why are you hung over?”

“I’m not,” she snapped. “I was listening, fifteen minutes, great.”

Eyeing her uncertainly, Erica continued. “Do you want to be the one to drop off the dresses, or me?”

Allison waved her hand, “I don’t care, whatever. Sure, you can do it.”

"Dude, who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Erica asked, reaching into her purse, and leaning close to the mirror, lipstick in hand. For once, her medication did not make her hands shake as she applied the color over her lips in careful, even strokes.  When she glanced in the mirror, Allison was watching the movements closely. “What?”

Shaking her head, Allison looked away. “Nothing.” Setting her cup down on the side table, she flopped back on to the pillows.

"All right…” So much for ‘Everything must be done now, immediately, as soon as possible, god Reyes, why aren’t you freaking out like me?!’ Capping her lipstick, Erica tossed it back into her bag, fixed her hair, and turned around. “All right.” This time, it was loud and pointed. Allison didn’t move. Rolling her eyes, “I’m going to go get something to eat with Boyd, do you want anything?” There was a non-committal grunt.

Finally having enough, Erica didn’t bother to try again, going for the door, pausing with her hand on the handle, in case Allison changed her mind. When she didn’t, Erica wrenched the door open, slamming it closed behind her.

What on earth was her damage?

Texting Boyd, she suggested that they meet in the lobby of the hotel before going to lunch. Now that Allison and Erica’s room had been moved, they were no longer on the same floor as everyone else, and Erica didn’t feel like going up to their floor only to come back down. That only meant she made it to the lobby a few minutes before Boyd, but she was all right with that – it gave her time to think.

Honestly, she didn’t know what Allison’s problem was. She had been awake when Allison stumbled to their room at three in the morning, apparently just tired rather than drunk, and she had let her sleep until eleven. Allison had no reason to be pissed at her, so far all she’s done was get her coffee from the café again, a nice gesture if Erica thought so herself. They had barely talked, let alone managed to find something to fight about.

She told Boyd as much when he arrived, after kissing his cheek in greeting.

There were times when she wondered why they had broken up in the first place, surely they would have been able to make a long distance relationship work. They had dated since their senior year in high school, maybe it was for the best that they took a break. By the time they had the chance to get back together, they agreed that they had both moved on.

Still, she loved him, whether as a friend or a lover, and considered him as close, if not closer, than Cora. She was glad that they had remained friends after their break up. He was a good confidant, and a generally calm, judicious person in general. She will never understand how he could have developed that trait, being friends with her and Cora, and having to put up with Scott and Stiles on the daily, but he had.

"Is she hung over?” He asked eventually.

Erica shrugged, “Apparently not. I mean, we’ve been sniping at each other the last two days, so I wasn’t surprised, They approached an outdoor café, and were quickly seated. While they looked over their menus, Boyd asked, “What exactly is your problem with her, anyways?”

It was the same question Cora and the others had asked last night, and Erica was frustrated to realize that her reasons were pitiful and, honestly, rather stupid. Sighing, she shook her head. “She just gets on my nerves. She’s stuck up, and thinks she knows better than everyone else.”

Boyd raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed. “You basically just described yourself.”

Curling her lip, she ignored the jab, focusing on the menu. 

"You know, it takes two to tango,” he said offhandedly.

Erica looked up, but his eyes were on the menu, and he seemed to be deliberately not meeting her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"It means that you have to stop being a little shit if you want to get along with her.”         

"Maybe I don’t want to get along with her,” Erica muttered to her complimentary breadstick. At her words, he smirked, but didn’t say anything. “What?” He just shook his head. How did he do that, how did he convey so much knowing superiority into one little head movement? “What?” she demanded, jabbing her breadstick at him.

Finally, he said, “I was just thinking about how with you, not getting along with someone usually means tears or sex, or both.”

Letting out a laugh, hard and loud, enough to startle the old ladies at the table next to them, Erica hooted. “Yeah, right, like I would ever fuck Allison Argent.” The ladies next to her tittered crossly at her language, but she ignored them. He wasn’t wrong about the first part, though. Erica was no stranger to angry, hateful, and completely consensual sex. She found it was some of the most satisfactory sex she’d ever had. Often, it got her what she wanted in the end anyways.

It was the obvious meaning behind his words that she laughed at, despite finding little humor in them. It was ridiculous, of course, there was no way she would have sex with Allison, there were lines even _Erica_ drew. So why did the memory of Allison sprawled out naked on the sheets come unbidden to mind, or her moaning to her coffee-

"How much you want to bet you two end up fucking by the end of the weekend.” Boyd said, fork pointed knowingly at her, even the crouton stabbed at the end managing to look accusing.

Glaring at the crouton, Erica leaned forward, “None. Because it won’t happen.”

"If it won’t happen, why not bet a hundred dollars?” When Erica didn’t answer, because she wasn’t about to put down that kind of money when she was starting to feel unsure about her certainty, he revised his offer. “Ten bucks says you two fuck.”

Eyes narrowed, she held out her hand, “Deal.”

He grasped hers briefly, “Deal.”

Pulling her hand away, Erica said, “You’re going to be ten dollars poorer at the end of this, Vernon Boyd.”

Boyd was quiet for a few moments after acknowledging her words. When he spoke, all he said was, “Don’t get hurt, Erica. And don’t hurt Allison.”

Unable to find words to respond to that, Erica looked down at her plate, wishing she had the certainty she had spoken with moments before. She was saved from replying by the waitress asking if they were ready to order. Jumping at the chance, she said they were, ignoring Boyd’s eyes on her.

* * *

At half past one Erica drove to the dry cleaners. Boyd asked her to drop him off the dollar store on the way there, which she did. When she asked him what he needed there, he smiled deviously, and said, “Isaac woke me up before ten on a day I didn’t have to wake up before ten. He is going to regret doing that.” Erica remembered the day before, when Isaac had arrived and she warned him not to wake Boyd. Not asking any more questions, she waved goodbye, only half wondering what it was he was going to do.

When she got to the cleaners, she found them closed, with a sign that said they’d be back at two. Irritated, but not yet worried, she texted Allison the update, to which she got a ‘K’ in response. “Fine, fuck you too,” Erica muttered, stowing her phone and waiting.

The manager was back by 1:55, which would have been awesome, except for the fact that the dress was not ready yet.

“ _What_?” she demanded. It took ten minutes to get to the dress shop, she did no have time for this.

The manager shrugged his shoulders, “It’s another ten minutes.”

"I don’t have ten minutes,” she said. “She needs this dress in like, five minutes.”

"Is the wedding today?” When she shook her head, he shrugged again. He did not seem to care. “Ten minutes. Your fiancée will just have to deal with it.”

Thrown off for a second, Erica said, “My who?”

"Your fiancée, the woman who came with you last night.” He turned to his books.

"She’s not, she’s not my fiancée-“ but he had disappeared into the back, and she was left with no dress, not enough time, and the image of Allison in Lydia’s dress. No, no, she would not think about that.

Swearing under her breath, and then not bothering to keep it quiet, she repeated the curse, pulling out her phone to text Allison.

 

> To Allison 13:01: I need at min. 25 minutes.
> 
> From Allison 13:01: Lydia wants to leave now. Dress shop ten minutes away.
> 
> To Allison 13:02: Is there any way you can stall her?
> 
> From Allison 13:02: I can try

After that, she got no response. Her fingers tapping a tattoo on the counter, she tilted her head to the side, trying to peer around the curtain separating the front from the cleaning area when the curtain was suddenly pulled aside, and the manager reemerged, the dress in hand. From what she could see through the plastic protection, the stain was gone.

“Oh my god, thank god,” she sighed, handing over the money, and taking the dress. “Thank you!” She shouted as she hurried out, trying to be careful when she stuffed the dress into the back of her car.

 

> To Allison 13:10: Leaving now

At the next stoplight, she read the text Allison sent two minutes after her message. ‘diving, prteding to b post’ It took her a second to decipher what she had said, and realized she must have sent it hurriedly from a stoplight. Well, so long as Allison’s detour took them more than fifteen minutes, they would be fine.

Speeding just slightly – there was absolutely no way she was going to risk getting pulled over – Erica could have sworn she saw Allison’s car, going the wrong way, two blocks away from the shop.

Parking, and not even stopping to fill the meter, Erica ran in, crushed box with Cora’s dress in one hand, Lydia’s in the other. “Hi!” She said breathlessly to the poor assistant, shoving the dressed towards her. Looking around, she did not see Lydia or Allison and nearly fainted with relief. “I was here yesterday, picked these up. Thing is, the brides wanted to try these on,” she gulped in hair, coughing slightly, “and I need you to pretend that we never picked them up, long story, also can you say you were closed yesterday? They have an appointment, ugh,” she looked at her phone, “Ten minutes ago.”

The girl looked flustered and confused, but seemed to have followed some of what she had said. Her supervisor came forward at that moment, and the girl disappeared to prepared the dresses, and Erica started to breathlessly explain again what she had told the girl when the bell above the door jangled, and in walked Lydia, Cora, and Allison. The two brides had their hair done up how they would the next day, with a small amount of make up. 

Allison physically relaxed when she saw Erica, and only looked slightly irritated with what Lydia was saying, “Honestly, if you had just listened to me, we would have been here ten minutes ago, oh, Erica, your meter ran out, you should fix that before you get ticketed.”

She swept past Erica, Cora on her heels, shaking her head. As Erica headed to the door, Allison muttered, “You owe me.” When Erica smiled at her, she glowered, expression dark.

 If Erica took more time than necessary to fill the meter, Allison was the only one who would accuse her of avoiding Lydia.

Lydia and Cora were talking to the manager about the dresses when she came back in, Lydia gesturing broadly with her hands. Walking up to Allison, who was standing off to the side, feeling the fabric of one of the display dresses with her long fingers, Erica said, “Do you think you’d ever get married?”

Jumping, Allison stepped back from the display, looking oddly guilty. Erica did not know why, she thought the dress suited her.

"I don’t know,” Allison said. “Probably.”

Erica looked over to where Cora was staring off in the distance, clearly not paying attention to what was being said before her, only jerking to attention when Lydia snapped something at her. She shrugged, and the frustration was clear on Lydia’s face that she had wanted something a little more.

"Would you?” Allison asked.

Eica’s brow twitched, but she shrugged, trying to play nonchalant. “Maybe. Depends on if I end up finding someone who can stand to be around me long enough.”

“That won’t be hard, you’re gorgeous and intelligent, and sometimes even nice.” There was a pause where Erica had to process what Allison had just said, and side eyed her slightly. Allison herself seemed only half aware that she had the words out loud. When she looked at Erica, she said, “What?”

“I think you just complimented me.” Erica said, hiding her smile.

Allison’s cheeks reddened at that, “Yeah? So what, it’s true.”

Liking the color that came to Allison’s cheeks, Erica kept it up. “You said I was sometimes nice!”

Shaking her head, Allison looked so done. “Jesus, are you going to do on about this-“

"That's the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

“Is not.”

"Is too.”

Making a face, Allison said, more under her breath than aloud, “I’ll remember not to do it to your face again then.”

Stomach swooping, Erica covered her surprise and pleasure at hearing Allison say that by teasing her, “Ooooh, to my face?” She goaded. “Does that mean you’ve been complimenting me behind me back?” Allison rolled her eyes. “Argent, I know you’re obsessed with me, but really, this is too much.”

"I am _not_ obsessed with you.”     

"It’s okay if you are, I totally understand. After all, I’m _gorgeous_ , remember. And _intelligent._ ”

Staring hard at the celling, Allison seemed to be looking hard for something she couldn’t find. Finally, she sighed when Lydia called her into the dressing room. “Never again, never,” she muttered as she left.

Erica smirked, watching the sway of Allison's hips, going over to Cora, who had been exiled to sitting outside the dressing room, foot bouncing impatiently. “Don’t tell Lydia, but this is a waste of time,” she said quietly when Erica sat.

Stifling a frustrated laugh, Erica shook her head. She considered telling Cora what anxiety-inducing hell she and Allison had just experienced trying to get the stupid dresses here before Lydia, but decided against it. It wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t know anything about it. “Yeah, well,” she said, when Allison called from the dressing room.

“Erica, come here, we need your opinion.”

Raising her eyes brows at Cora, Erica stood.

On a round platform in front of a half circle of mirrors, Lydia was standing, hands on her hips. The assistant’s eyes were flickering between Allison and Lydia, and she sighed a huge breath of relief when Erica entered.

"Yes, your highnesses?” Erica asked, bowing mockingly.

Lydia ignored her, though Allison shot her an irritated look. “We want your opinion on Lydia’s make up. We were thinking smoky eye, but I think a minimal, cat eye with a pink lip would contrast with the red lips and dark dresses of the bridesmaids.”

Erica tilted her head, trying to envision it. “I mean, yeah, I like that. The bridesmaids need white bouquets though. Like, maybe baby’s breath and lilies…”

“No, not more baby’s breath. It is literally almost twenty four hours before the wedding, and you want to change the bouquets?” Allison looked like she might be about to have an aneurysm.

Lydia on the other hand looked like she might be considering it. “That would work,” her eyes were distant, as though she were envisioning it. “I can’t believe I didn’t consider the contrast of the white and the purple.”

Allison had taken out her phone, and was looking through the florist’s website. “I just want to let you know how expensive this is going to be-“

"How many times do I have to tell you not to worry about that?” Lydia said, impatient. “My dad is paying for everything, I don’t care. Waste his money.”

While Lydia argued with the assistant on how she should wear the veil, Allison sidled up to Erica. “This is all your fault, you and your fucking baby’s breath.”

"Don’t use baby’s breath then. Use, fuck, I don’t know. Peonies or something. I don’t care.” Erica heading towards the doorway, hoping to escape before Lydia dragged her into something else.

But Allison pursued her. “If you would just keep your mouth shut-“ but Erica had finally had enough. She wasn’t going to put up with this bullshit.

“Oh, bite me.”

How hard?” Allison snapped back.

Startled, Erica looked back at her. Allison bared her teeth, and Erica grinned. Remembering what Boyd had said, she turned away, trying to hide the smile, but failed. Maybe she’d put up with the bullshit a little longer.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let you know, ~spoilers~ there is sex in this chapter, for a good chunk of the middle, if you just want to skim through it.

Rehearsal was relatively quick and painless, for which Allison was glad, because there was no way she would be able to deal with Erica a moment longer than she needed to. Then she remembered that they still had the post-rehearsal dinner with Lydia and Cora’s closest relatives to suffer through. Sitting next to each other.

Everyone had dressed relatively nice, the girls in dresses and heels in order to practice walking down the isles. Allison was surprised when Erica showed up in a nice strapless dress, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, but she was more surprised by the swooping in her stomach at the sight of her. Allison has never denied the fact that Erica was beautiful, but sometimes she was still surprised when she pulled moments like this. She looked radiant.

It was going well until Erica managed to get sucked into a conversation with Mr. Martin.

They shouldn’t even have been seated near each other, but there had been a weird mix up with the seating (that would of course be fixed the next day), and no one really felt like rearranging themselves once they had sat down and started talking. And, in all honesty, no one really wanted to move if it meant sitting next to Mr. Martin either. So Erica, who didn’t know him, just knew enough to know that she had just gotten a very shitty deal indeed, was left to glare at the rest of them, who staunchly avoided eye contact. 

As per usual, he was being his dickish self, and Allison reflected on her conversation with Lydia, who had debated not even bothering to invite him. It was honestly the fact that he offered to pay for the wedding that was the deciding factor, and Lydia made no effort to hide that fact. She and Cora had even gone so far as to choose to walk down their isles alone, foregoing the tradition of the fathers giving away the bride, which Cora said was archaic anyways. Mr. Hale had shown no offence to the decision, kindly understanding Lydia’s situation.

 Somehow, they had managed to get on to the topic of healthcare, which Mr. Martin appeared to be staunchly against, not seeming to realize Erica’s condition.

“Well, Mr. Martin,” Erica said, voice tight, holding her glass of water with white knuckles, “Perhaps as a, what was it, architectural engineer?, you’re not really in any position to comment on the way the healthcare system works.”

He did not seem to notice her irritation. “I think that as a tax paying citizen, I should not be subject to picking up the bills for lazy people who are working the system in their favor.”

Allison could see the shift in Erica’s body language as his words hit. She could physically see Erica shift from ‘I’m not really in the mood to actually deal with this shit’ to ‘What in the fuck did you just say to me?’ Leaning towards her, speaking through her clenched teeth smile, Allison said, “If you can’t play nice, just please don’t talk to him.”    

Erica did not even acknowledge having heard her. “Mr. Martin,” she had even changed the way she said her name. At first, it sounded almost more polite than what she had been using before, but Allison quickly realized that the tone she was using was not one she ever wanted used directed towards her. “Please do correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t have any serious health concerns, do you?”

He nodded.

“And, again correct me if I’m wrong, but your job provides you with a salary of upwards of two hundred thousand dollars a year.”

He straightened his shoulders, nodding in a self-important way Allison recognized from Lydia. She made a careful note never to tell Lydia that connection.

Seeing the cogs whirring behind Erica’s eyes, Allison muttered, “Erica…” But again, she was ignored.

“Perhaps I’m over simplifying the system at hand, and the situation we’re discussing, but honestly, I do not see what it matters to you if you have to pay an extra fifteen dollars on your routine check up so that someone else can even afford to have a check up, or needed medication.”

“I don’t think people should rely on hand outs from the government,” he sniffed. “Healthcare is a privilege, not a right. If someone wants the services, they should have to pay for them.”          

Even Allison had trouble not exclaiming at that. Erica on the other hand did not try to hide her contempt, laughing loud once and cold. “So, again always correct me if I’m wrong, but you basically just said that _living_ is a privilege.”

“I did no-“

“’Healthcare is a privilege,’ is what you said, douche-spigot ” Erica said loudly.

“Erica!” Allison cried.

“Young lady, I hardly think that you would understand-“

Erica cackled, and Allison put her hand on Erica’s arm, not quite sure what she was trying to do with it, but Erica flung it off. “If it weren’t for the, so-called government hand outs, my parents wouldn’t have been able to pay for my, admittedly not really life threatening, but still a huge fucking problem, epilepsy treatments and hospital bills, you human trash can.” Her voice was surprisingly conversational, despite her loud laughter.

Mr. Martin’s face was turning red, and Allison couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed, or because he was angry. For some reason, his reaction seemed out of place, perhaps because of how casually Erica insulted him that it almost did not seem like she had even said anything offensive. “Erica, please-“ she started.

Lydia chose that moment to stop by, clearly having hear Erica’s outburst. “How are things going over here?” she asked.

Allison opened her mouth to respond, when Erica said, “Oh, just peachy, Lydia, thank you so much for asking.” She was smiling blandly, and Allison got a bad feeling from it. “We were just having a conversation with this soiled diaper about the state of health care in this country.”

Lydia pursed her lips, but instead of saying anything to Lydia, she turned her father.

“Erica, if I have to tell you to mind your manners one more time-“

“Fuck off, Argent, you’re not my mother,” Erica snapped.

“And you can’t talk to Lydia’s father, let alone Lydia, like that.”

“Why not, he’s an asshole. You heard him.”

“Because he is literally paying for this wedding.”

She scoffed, "So that gives him free reign to be a dick?” She said dick louder than perhaps was necessary, making sure he was able to hear it. Lydia did not even bother to spare them a look, still speaking quietly with her father. 

Allison stood up then, gesturing to Erica. “Come with me.” When Erica did not stand, she said, loudly, “I need to get something from my coat, Erica, would you please accompany me?”

Overhearing what she said, Lydia turned away from, Allison hoped, reprimanding her father, “You could just ask the wait staff to get it for you, Ally. It’s part of their job.”

“Yeah, _Ally_ ,” Erica muttered.

For a near genius, who was arguably among the more socially capable of Allison’s friends, Allison was amazed that Lydia had completely missed her unsubtle attempt to talk to Erica alone. “It’s fine, Lydia. Erica, could you pelase help me?”

Throwing down her napkin, Erica glared at her, standing. They were inches from each other, and Allison could see she was shaking just slightly. “I would love to, Allison.” She turned on her heel, and stomped out of the banquet hall.

Not looking at Lydia or any of the staring relatives as she passed, Allison followed quickly.

In the hallway, Erica was waiting for her, arms crossed, face dark. “I’m not going to listen to you tell me off for that.”

Ignoring her, Allison headed for the stairs, and, hearing Erica following somewhat behind, said, “I’m not going to tell you off, I’m not your mother.”

"Really, because the way you’ve been hassling me the last two days sure reminds me of my mother.”

Allison did not want to think of herelf being compared to anyone’s mother, she stood in front of the open coat closet, indicated Erica go in.

Erica raised an eyebrow, “You’re not serious.”

"Deadly.”

Rolling her eyes, Erica swept past her. “It’s a bit cozy,” she said. Closing the door, Allison faced Erica. They were so close they were touching, barely enough room to stand without bumping into the coats that were hanging. “Was that necessary, there’s no light switch in here.”

Not answering her, Allison said, “Look, I do not blame you for being pissed-“

"Damn right.”           

"But you can’t go making a scene like that!” Allison finished. “Not in front of her relatives, and the Hales.”

The only light in the closet came from the edges of the door, which gave more than enough light to see her irritation. “Whatever.”

Feeling a surge of anger at Erica’s lack of sympathy, Allison snapped, “Not whatever! You probably really embarrassed Lydia out there, and probably Cora as well!”

“Fuck off.” Erica turned to leave, but Allison threw her hand up, catching Erica in the chest. Determinedly not thinking about the placement of her hand, Allison said:

“Look, he’s an asshole, I’m not going to fight you on that. But all I’m asking is that you hold it together for the next twenty-four hours, so we can make this the happiest day of our friends’ lives, and move on.”

“Well, I hope it’s not the happiest day of their lives," Erica spat.

Allison gaped at her. She knew Erica could be a bitch, but she didn’t think she was this much of a bitch. “What is wrong with you, that’s horrible.” Considering the amount of work Erica had put it to this wedding, she was frankly surprised she would even say that.

“I wouldn’t want my happiest day to be the day I spent thousands of dollars to have my love for a person be legally recognized.”

Some people show their love in different ways than you do,” Allison said, trying to placate her so they could go back to the dinner peacefully. “Some people feel the need to do grand things for the people they love, sometimes it’s as simple as a cup of coffee.”

Even in the half-light, Allison could see a shift in Erica’s expression, but didn’t know what for. "I would want it to be the day I told someone I loved them, and they loved me back, or something like that.”Erica seemed to have given this a lot of thought, but at the moment, Allison did not care to deal with whether Erica was being sincere, or if she was still messing with her.

Having had enough, Allison threw up her hands, or tried to in the tiny space. “Fine, you know what? Never mind.” Allison turned to open the door, but found the handle stuck. “Oh, god no.” she groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Erica asked.

Thunking her forehead against the door, Allison said, “The door’s locked.” It must have done so automatically.

Reaching around her, Erica tried the handle herself, to the same result. “ _And_ there’s no service down here,” she said; just as Allison tried calling Lydia, only getting the dull beeping of an uncompleted call. “I just want you to know-“ she started, but Allison interrupted her.

“Don’t say it.” She would not be able to handle it if Erica started to gloat. Not right now.

"Say what?”

"’I told you so.’”

There was a beat, and then Erica said, “Actually, I was going to say that this would be so much more fun if we were naked.”

Startled, partially by the sudden change in Erica’s attitude, and partially by the coarseness of her comment, Allison was glad for the semi-darkness, so that Erica would be unable to discern her blush in the dark. She was, however able to see her eyes, so she made a show of rolling them. “What is it like to have a mind of utter filth?”

“Ceaselessly entertaining,” Erica replied lewdly. “But, now that you remind me, yes, I told you so.”

Allison groaned, banging her head backwards against the door. “This if your fault you know,” she said.

Even in the barely there light, she could see the affront on Erica’s face. “How in the fuck is this my fault. You were the one who insisted we come in here.

'Earlier, you said nothing had gone wrong, you jinxed it.”

"You are ridiculous,” Erica scoffed. “This is hardly something going wrong. This is a minor inconvenience.”

“I can not believe we’re going to miss our best friends’ wedding rehearsal dinner because we’re locked in a fucking closet.”

"It’s a coat room-“

"I don’t care.”

"I don’t care that you don’t care.”

"Jesus Christ, will you shut up?”

"Make me,” Erica taunted.

For a moment, Allison nearly ignored her. She nearly ignored how closely they were standing together, how she could feel Erica pressing up against her side, her thigh between Allison’s legs in the tiny space, nearly ignored how close their lips really were. But then she didn’t. “Fine,” she spat out.

Erica opened her mouth, probably to retort, or say something scathing, but Allison lunged forward, closing the short distance between them, Erica’s back hitting the door hard. Their teeth clacked together, and Erica made a noise of surprise, but she quickly caught on to what was happening, and returned the kiss with bruising force.

Of all of the times Allison has fantasized about making out with someone in a closet, she never thought she would follow through in practice, particularly not with someone she hated as much as she hated Erica Reyes.

“Fuck,” Erica gasped, her hands sliding down Allison’s dress, finding the hem of the skirt, and pulling it up. Her hands were cool against the heat of Allison’s thighs, and Allison couldn’t stop the anticipatory moan. 

Snatching her hands away, Erica covered Allison’s mouth with her hand, “Do you want to get caught?” she hissed.

Biting down on the flesh of Erica’s palm, Allison tugged at Erica’s dress, fingers scrabbling along the zipper at her back, tugging it down. Erica gasped as the cool air of the closet hit her skin, her strapless dress falling around her waist. Allison leaned down, catching one of Erica’s nipples between her teeth, grazing just lightly over the skin, tongue dancing hot along the tip. Erica’s breath sighed out of her, and her hands found Allison’s hair, catching in the braided style.

Allison didn’t think about what she was doing, sucking and kissing the skin with open-mouthed greed. Her fingers trailed downward, finding the edge of Erica’s panties and delving in, cupping Erica’s sex, but not going any further.

Erica made a needy noise at the back of her throat, “Yes,” she panted, trying to grind down on Allison’s unmoving hand. “Fuck, yes.”

Kissing her way up Erica’s neck, bruising skin and leaving a trail, Allison captured Erica’s lips with hers. Erica sighed into her mouth, hot and demanding, and still, Allison did not move her fingers. “Well, Argent?” she gasped out, hips still moving, still looking for friction Allison wasn’t giving. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Allison pulled away, baring her teeth. For a moment, Erica looked surprised, but the expression was wiped from her face when Allison found the little button between Erica’s legs. Eyes wide and chest heaving, Erica bit back a yelp of surprise with so much force that Allison could see the muscles of her jaw working to keep her mouth closed. It did not stop the sounds from escaping her throat, low and desperate.

It was a strange rush of power to have Erica in this position, begging her for more, but Allison didn’t have the capacity to recognize it. The only thing she wanted in that moment was to hear Erica make more noises, and to be the cause of said noises.

Using only the lightest of touches, Allison flicked the nub, Erica’s slick drenching her hand. Erica didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, reduced to fisting the hem of her dress, back slick with sweat, sticking to the door.

She wanted to draw this out as long as she could, deny Erica her orgasm for as long as she could. Still feeling resentment and rather bitter towards Erica, Allison felt like delaying the actual act of getting Erica off would be retribution enough.

"Fuckin’ hate you, Argent,” Erica groaned, banging her head against the door.

Not stopping, Allison tipped Erica’s face so she was looking her dead in the eye, the hand she had buried in Erica’s panties sped up its ministrations, one finger, and then another entering Erica to the knuckle. Erica tried to look away, but Allison kept her face there, not breaking eye contact until she leaned forward, lips brushing, fingers pumping quicker and quicker, and whispered, “No, you don’t.”

At this, Erica cried out, grasping Allison’s arm as she came. Her grip on was enough that Allison knew, even in her preoccupied state, that her nails were going to leave marks.

Allison gently removed her hand from Erica’s panties, her fingers just barely brushing Erica’s clit, sending what appeared to be an electric jolt through Erica, who shuddered.

Not waiting for Erica to recover, Allison leaned against the wall and slipped her hand between her own legs. At first, it seemed like she would be getting herself off very quickly, when Erica suddenly kneeled down, shoving her hands out of the way, and dragging her underwear down.

Wrenching Allison’s underpants out of the way, Erica pressed her mouth against Allison’s slit, breathing hot air against the throbbing area. Allison sighed, tipping her head back, only to jerk suddenly when Erica flattened her tongue out, dragging it between her lips, just missing her clit.

“Oh, god,” Allison groaned, knees weakening. She had long ago kicked off her heels, and a good thing too, otherwise she would have completely lost her footing when Erica’s tongue suddenly swirled over the oversensitive bundle of nerves so agonizingly neglected. Allison gripped at Erica’s hair, thighs clenching to hold her head in place.

Unlike Allison, Erica did not seem intent on prolonging things. Instead, she seemed to be approaching Allison’s sex like a woman starved and Allison was a feast. Her movements were urgent, and Allison was not about to complain.

When Allison’s feet slipped out from under her, her hands only barely catching her fall before she hit the ground, Erica simply adjusted her position, moving Allison’s legs in a more comfortable position, adding a long finger to the work her tongue was already doing.

Toes curling tightly, Allison whimpered as she felt her orgasm building, hips bucking up to meet Erica’s every pass. It got to the point where Erica had to force Allison’s legs down as they scrabbled for purchase. 

Breaths coming in short, high pitched spurts, Allison finally let go with a cry, nails digging into her palms, writhing as Erica continued lapping at her sex. “Oh god, oh god,” she sobbed, spasming each time Erica’s tongue passed over her over stimulated clit.

It was a few minutes before Allison was able to process what just happened, their legs slick with come, dresses and hair in states of complete disarray.

She had just had sex. With Erica Reyes. Whom she was suddenly, or not so suddenly, realizing that it was possible that she didn’t hate Erica all that much, and maybe it was possible that she had known long before she got into the closet with her. This was all very confusing, because she knew that Erica drove her up the wall, but she also knew that the warmth pooling in her stomach at the sight of Erica didn’t have to do with having just had one of the best orgasms of her life.

Erica was the one who spoke first, her voice wrecked and raw. “I owe Boyd ten bucks.”

For a second, Allison didn’t process what she had said, but when the words hit, it was like she had been punched in the gut. “What?” she asked, still breathless.

Waving her hand as though it were unimportant, Erica got to her feet unsteadily, shoving coats out of her way, “Never mind,” she said. She offered Allison her hand to help her up, but Allison knocked it away, standing herself.

“No, not never mind, what did you mean, you owe Boyd ten bucks? Did you make a bet? About me?” She could not believe she had been so stupid. It’s obviously not like they had just had sex because they liked each other, of course, not, whatever she had just been considering. But the thought of Erica planning this, of her laughing about this with Boyd, or anyone else, horrified her.

Erica looked horrified, “What? No, of course not!”

"That’s what you just said.”

“No, I-“

At that moment, there was a knocking on the closet door, “Hello? Anyone in there?” A gruff voice Allison vaguely recognized as one of the venue managers called. “We heard, achem, yelling.”

Not taking her eyes off of Erica, Allison said, “Yes, we’re in here.”

"All right, just a moment, let me get the key out.”

Erica opened her mouth to say something to Allison, but she knew she couldn’t bear to hear her excuses. “Save it,” she said, finding her panties, and pulling them up.

By the time the man had gotten the door open, they had managed to straighten themselves, but the look they were give clearly indicated that there was no hiding what they had been doing.

Instead of going immediately back to the dinner, Allison found the closest bathroom.

* * *

When she got back to the dinner, Erica was nowhere to be seen, and Lydia gave Allison a look that told her that, no matter how much she splashed her face, or rebraided her hair, there was no hiding what had just happened.

Allison didn’t want to talk to anyone for the rest of the dinner, but when Erica arrived, a couple of minutes later, still looking disheveled but better, she staunchly avoided Erica’s attempts at making eye contact with her by talking to Scott.


	7. Chapter 7

“Lydia, if that’s what you want, that’s what I want,” Cora said, not looking up.

Arms crossing her chest in a gesture Erica recognized as Lydia’s ‘I’ve lost my patience’ look, Lydia pursed her lips and demanded, “Do you even care about this wedding?”

Cora looked up at this, brown eyes wide. “What?” Her eyebrows hiked up her forehead as she seemed to process what Lydia had just said. “Lyds, are you serious?”

“Yes!” Even as she said that, she was shaking her head, red curls bouncing. “You just sit there, sulking with Derek-“

" _Sulking_?”

"And whenever I ask for your input, all you ever say is ‘Whatever you want, Lydia’, you haven’t told us anything you want in the wedding besides baby’s breath, and even then I’m pretty sure Erica just told you to say that you wanted it to stop Allison from freaking out.” Damn, she was good. “You’re going to be a guest at your own wedding!”

“Lydia, I don’t care about color schemes, or whether the boys have matching ties, or,” Cora gestured wildly, “baby’s-fucking-breath!”

"Why not?” Lydia’s hands moved to her hips, and short as she was, she looked impressively imposing. “This is your wedding too, we should be making these decisions together, as a _team_.”

Erica tried to catch Allison’s eye, but Allison had been avoiding Erica at all costs since they fucked in the closest, which more than frustrating, it was hurtful.      

She knew she shouldn’t have said that, but if Allison had just let her explain, it was a harmless bet, really, she hadn’t even been serious about. ‘How much you want to bet you two end up fucking,’ god how stupid was that?

What was more, Erica was starting to realize how much she thought about Allison, and the implications of that. She didn’t like _Allison_ , no, of course not, shut up, Boyd. And Isaac. And Cora. And fuck, everyone knew didn’t they? Even Lydia, she was sure, had figured out that, however much Erica tried to convince herself that she did not like Allison, no matter how much they bitched… she was going to come back to the fact that Allison’s smile made her stomach jump to her throat, or that when she saw her it was like she could focus on nothing else in the room, and she was going to be damned if she was going to pass up the opportunity on something amazing because of some stupid misunderstanding.

Cora stood up just then, holding her hands out to Lydia who did not take them, “Lydia, we could get married in a parking lot and I would be happy.”

“So you don’t care about any of the work that I have put into this?” Lydia demanded.

“No, that’s not what I-“

 “That sounds exactly like what you just said,” Lydia said, turning on her heel, “Come talk to me when you actually feel like getting married.” With that, she stormed out of the room. For a split second, Allison glanced at Erica, but then turned to Cora, making some sort of apologetic sound, and followed Lydia out.

Cora turned to Erica. “What in the fuck was that?”       

Erica was still watching the doorway where Allison had just left, and had to shake herself to focus on Cora. Erica raised her eyebrows, “Honestly, considering what Bridezilla’s has told me, I’m surprised she hasn’t exploded sooner, or more, er, violently.”

Cora gave her a look that told her she shouldn’t be saying things like that about the love of her life, but Erica only shrugged. They were not best friends because they sugar coated the truth.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so obsessed with getting my opinion on everything,” Cora muttered, crossing her arms. “I don’t give a shit, I just want her to be happy. Why does that upset her?”

Remembering what Allison had said earlier, about Lydia’s fixation with control, and making sure other people perceived her how she wanted them to perceive her, and though she would never admit it, there was a part of her that wanted validation from those around her that she was doing the right thing.

“Lydia wants you to be happy, she wants to be happy, she-“ Erica gestured, “probably wants to make her parents happy-“

“She hates her parents. Well, her dad.”

“Probably wants to impress yours-“

“My parents don’t care.”

“She thinks Talia hates her.”        

“What the fuck- why?” Cora very suddenly leaned forward.

Erica shrugged, “I don’t know, ask Allison, or, better yet, your _fiancée_. But, I mean, let’s be real, Talia can be kinda unapproachable.”

Cora scowled. “Ugh. _That’s_ why she didn’t want to come to the barbeque.”

"I’m sure this wedding is just an extension of that. Allison wants this wedding to go perfectly too, and it’s because she doesn’t want to cause Lydia any more stress.”            

“I get that, but it doesn’t mean I need to tell her what shade of purple I want, it hardly matters, and I don’t care. She probably _doesn’t_ want my opinion, if she wants perfection, because I am shit at that.”

Watching Cora rub her temples, Erica couldn’t help but think of Allison focusing so hard on wedding plans, asking her what she thought every few minutes of that vendor, or this vendor, calling Lydia… Why did everything have to come back to Allison? Shaking her head, “This is your wedding too,” Erica said, “And maybe Lydia… maybe Lydia wants to make sure you’re happy with her. I mean, maybe Lydia wants you to know how much she cares about this, and about you, and, I don’t know, about your life together.” Erica remembered high school, and the disaster that was Cora and Lydia’s first attempt at dating. “Maybe she’s overcompensating, but, I meanshe’s trying.”

Cora seemed to be following, nodding her head. “So… telling her I don’t care about whether we have lilacs or wisteria is basically telling her I don’t care about our future together.”        

"Basically.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.”

"I wouldn’t go that far,” Erica said kindly. “You are pretty dense, though.”

Shooting her a look, Cora said, “So, I should probably explain to Lydia that yes, I love her and all that.” Erica blinked at the simplicity of her words, and the ease with which she spoke them.

“Maybe try to be a bit less blasé about it.”

“Right, because you’re the epitome of romantic.”

Erica sighed, “Well, I’m going to try to be, anyways."

* * *

“I’m being unreasonable,” Lydia said, before Allison even opened her mouth.

Raising her eyebrows, Allison watched her friend pace, stalking back in forth with enviable ease. Even now, when she wore them nearly every workday, Allison still hasn’t mastered the art of stomping in heels. There were days when she would have loved that skill.

“Am I though? I don’t think I am,” she decided suddenly. Allison rarely saw Lydia Martin uncertain, and when she was, it always to do with Cora. Cora made Lydia second guess herself in a way Allison had never seen. Probably because Cora refused to take any of Lydia’s shit. Erica would-

It made her stomach clench, thinking about Erica. How had she managed to worm her way into Allison’s mind so easily? Every time she thought of something, she connected it back to her.

“I mean, what if she doesn’t care because she doesn’t even want to get married? I mean-“

Alarmed, Allison interrupted her, “Lydia, this is so not like you. Calm down.”

Lydia flapped a hand at her. “This whole time, Cora hasn’t said anything about she wants, I don’t think she cares about this wedding, what if she’s been talking to Talia, I _swear_ that woman has it out for me-“

Reaching out a hand, Allison finally stopped Lydia’s pacing. “Lydia. Listen to me. Cora loves you. She has loved you since junior year of high school _at least_ -“

“I was so horrible though, and then we had that awful break up-“

“And now look at you.” Allison shook her head, taking Lydia’s hand and clasping in with both of her own. “Lyd, Cora would not have asked you to marry her if she didn’t want to get married. She loves you, you love her. Sometimes, people show their love in different ways. Cora wants you to what you want, she doesn’t care about the wedding, because to her, the wedding isn’t as important as what it symbolizes-“

“So why doesn’t she make damn sure the symbols make-“

“No, I mean, the union of you both and all that. She wants to get married, but she wouldn’t care if it was in jeans or silk, she’s doing it because she wants to be with you.”

Lydia nodded, then grimaced. “She would rather get married in jeans, let’s be honest.”

Allison laughed, trying to picture Lydia getting married in jeans, and found the image too absurd, knowing she would never allow it.

After a moment, Lydia joined in, shaking her head. “I was being ridiculous.”

“Yes you were,” Allison said, though she knew Lydia’s fears were valid. She also knew what Lydia wanted to hear.

“I should apologize.”

“Just go talk to her. Tell her what you told me.”

Nodding, Lydia took a deep breath and headed for the door. In the doorway, she turned and said, “Hey, what happened between you and Erica?”

Feeling the pang in her chest, Allison shook her head. “Nothing, it was just a stupid mistake. I thought… well, at the time I didn’t think, but afterwards I thought I knew what was going on, but apparently I thought wrong.”

Lydia frowned at her, her green eyes shrewd. “Maybe you’re being ridiculous too,” she offered.

“Maybe,” Allison said, because she wanted Lydia to go away. There was no misunderstanding what Erica had said.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning of the wedding, Erica woke up at four forty, and found herself lying awake, listening to Allison breathe on the bed next to hers. Erica ached to touch her, surprised at the ferocity of her desire. Not even to fuck, or kiss, just to touch, hold her hand maybe.

This was ridiculous.

The night before, Erica had tried to talk to her, but she had, rather aggressively, gone to bed. All Erica had to do was explain the stupid bet. It sounded so simple, but when Allison refused to talk to her, it was made slightly more difficult.

She’d just have to corner her at some point.

All she had to do was explain that it was just a stupid misunderstanding. No harm, no foul. And… maybe tell her that Erica was starting to realize that she didn’t hate Allison all that much. Or at all.

That was going to be the hard part. Erica wasn’t one for poetics or fancy declarations of love. She was simple, to the point. Other people she could help with this sort of thing, no problem, but when it came to articulating how she felt, it never sounded as nice as she wanted it to. Maybe she hung around with Cora too much.

At five o’clock, twelve hours until the wedding, Erica got up and checked the list of things that needed to be done, almost all of which pertained to the physical setting up of the flowers and the vendors for the most part. They were lucky that their venue allowed them to set up chairs and tables the day before, or Erica would have been somewhat more worried.

By the time Allison woke up, early at seven, Erica had already showered, dressed, and gently set a cup of black coffee on the nightstand next to her bed, at which she looked surprised, and then frowned. Erica could not tell if it was a confused frown, or an angry frown, or a sad frown, and pretended she hadn’t seen it all.

At seven forty, after Allison had showered, dressed, eaten, and surreptitiously sipped her coffee, Erica approached her, hoping to get the matter out of the way so they could get on with things.

Before she had even opened her mouth, Allison said, “I’ve been thinking,” to which Erica responded:

"Me too!” If her words came out fast and a little breathless, then sue her.

Allison nodded slowly, and Erica’s heart sank, because she didn’t think this was going to go the way she wanted it to. “I think we should keep this strictly professional. What happened, happened, and nothing is going to change that. But all we need to do is finish this wedding, and then we never have to talk about this again.”

Erica knew that at this point, when stress was mounting about the wedding, there was no point in arguing with her. But at some point, she wanted to tell Allison how she felt. Nodding, Erica said, “Okay,” and if something flitted across Allison’s face, then Erica pretended she didn’t see it.

Nodding slowly, her eyes no longer on Erica, Allison clapped her hands together and said, “So, what needs to be done first?”

* * *

Striding through the doors of the reception hall, Allison’s eyes were assaulted by the bright, flashing lights of the strobes, matched expertly to the music that was blaring. “No, this is wrong,” she muttered to herself, feeling her mouth twist angrily.

It was bad enough she had had to talk to Erica this morning, only for it to go to shit. Well, actually, it had gone calmly, and exactly how she had planned it would, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

Allison wasn’t going to lie, she had wanted Erica to disagree with keeping it professional. She had wanted her to say, well, Allison wasn’t sure what she wanted her to say. She wanted her to say something other that, “Okay,” like she wasn’t bothered by this at all. Was Allison the only one bothered by this?

She wasn’t used to rejection this way. Allison knew people liked her, she knew she was beautiful, and had never had a problem asking someone out if she liked them. So why had she, _how_ had she, let Erica sweep in, take what she want, and leave, without leaving a single mark on her?

Trying to put Erica out of her mind, a seemingly impossible task lately, Allison hurried towards where the music was set up. “Excuse me!” The disc jockey they hired had been specifically told not to set up bright flashing lights. What if it had been Erica walking through those doors? She hurried across the floor, shouting, “Excuse me!”

The music was too loud: he couldn’t hear her. That was another issue. “Excuse me!” This time, she waved her hand in front of his face, startling him enough to make him look up, but not enough to turn off the music. She made a motion, and finally he understood that she wanted to talk to him, and shut the sound off.

“Yeah?” He shouted, even though the room was now quiet.

Losing patience, Allison reached over and pulled off his oversized headphones. “You can’t have the strobes,” she said shortly.

He frowned, his eyebrows contracting. “What? No, the strobes are essential for the, like, mood. Y’know?” He made some gesture that Allison could only associate with people saying the word ‘groovy.’

“We specifically said no strobes, I have a copy of the-“

“You gotta have the strobes!” he interrupted, looking for all the world like she had just told him that Iggy Azalea had superior music qualities than Beyoncé or Nicki Minaj, and a part of Allison wished she had (even though she obviously didn’t agree), because did he just interrupt her? “Listen lady, strobes are so important, I’ve done this before, you gotta have the strobes.”

“Or maybe we don’t,” Allison snapped. “Maybe we have guests who are epileptic, maybe this is a wedding, not a fucking rave. Maybe we can hire a different company if you’re not capable of even follow basic requests.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a finger. “The music you were just playing was not on the approved music provided by your client. You will not be playing it. You will play the correct music, you will not have strobes, and you will play it at a level that actually allows people to hear themselves think. Or you will pack up your stuff and leave. Do you understand?”

Again, she did not let him actually speak, just raised an eyebrow until he nodded once. “Good.”

Spinning on her heel, she stalked out, her bad mood firmly intact. Only now, she had a throbbing headache. And had forgotten to check the placement of the bar, which had been her entire purpose for coming in there. Later. Right now, she needed some damn Ibuprofen. Maybe something stronger.

* * *

“So did you talk to Allison yet?” Cora asked as Erica helped her drag their luggage out to the car they would be taking to the airport.

Sighing, Erica said, “No, not yet.”

"Why not?” Cora seemed more alarmed than warranted, “Dude, you don’t have that much time.”

“She said she wanted to keep things professional.”

“But you don’t.”

"No.” Erica sighed. “So the question is, do I respect her wishes, or do I explain myself, and see if maybe knowing that it wasn’t just a one-off fuck to me changes her mind. I mean, I don’t want to bother her.”

Cora pursed her lips, adjusting the strap of the bag she was carrying so it was more comfortable. “I mean, post-coital-“

“Please don’t use that term.”

“- did she seem pissed off? Or was it after you mentioned the bet that she got upset?”

Erica thought back to the coatroom, back to Allison sprawled out and languid, and the soft contentment on her face. “She seemed fine. She seemed, I don’t know, happy.”

"There you go.” Cora dug her hand into one of the bags, looking for the keys to the car and unlocking the trunk. “That sounds like she at least enjoyed herself. I’m guessing it’s the bet that upset her, and so long as you explain it, it’ll clear things up.”  

"Yeah… If I ever get the chance to talk to her, that is.” Cora didn’t have anything to say to that

As they reentered the hotel, a group of workers entered wearing the florist’s logo on their shirts. “Are you here to set up the canopies?” Erica asked. One of them nodded, and she gestured. “I can take you to the reception hall, you have the plans of how things are supposed to go?

Twenty minutes later, she was standing in the doorway of the hall, watching set up when Allison appeared behind her.

Neither of them spoke, and when Erica looked at her, Allison was staring very hard at the flowers. “If you stare hard enough, maybe you can will them back to life,” Erica said, trying to play it cool. What the fuck was that, that wasn’t cool, Reyes, that didn’t even make sense.

Allison didn’t seem to notice, which Erica wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “Do you think the purples match?,” she asked, eyes flickering over the different bunches. Erica rolled her eyes. This again. “When they said they would see what they could do, I was hoping they’d manage to keep the same purples.”

Erica looked up, and saw no difference. “Yes, they do.”         

"No they don’t.”

"If you’re not going to change your mind, please explain why you asked me.”

"Because I needed confirmation that they didn’t match.”

“I said they didn-“ Immediately giving up on that one, because she knew Allison didn’t care, Erica tried a different tactic. “Literally, you are the only one who will notice.”       

"Am not.”       

“Look, you don’t have time to change it now, just deal with it.”          

Huffing, Allison crossed her arms, still glaring at the canopies. 

Well done, Reyes, Erica berated herself. But now was as good a time as any. Taking a deep breath, Erica turned to her. “Look, Allison-“ she started.

“Allison!” Scott called from behind them, and Erica loved Scott, she really did, but right at that moment, she wanted to strangle him.

Allison, who had been looking at Erica expectantly, looked to Scott, “Yeah, what’s up?”

"No one knows where our ties or pocket squares are, Stiles said Isaac had them, but Isaac said-“

Sighing, Allison followed after him, nodding a quick goodbye to Erica, whose heart was still pounding in anticipation of telling Allison everything. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself.

* * *

Lunch was a hurried affair of the bride’s people and their immediate families scarfing down subs from the place down the street, and hurrying on with their schedules.

"T-minus two hours for all bridesmaids,” Laura announced. “Boys need to be ready by four. Everyone else… just keep doing what you’re doing, which apparently means doing nothing.” At that, she glared at Derek, who threw his hands up in offense.

At two, Allison caught up with Erica, whom she asked, “What time are the cakes getting here?”

Erica looked startled, “Why are you asking me? You’re the one who confirmed delivery with them.”

"No I didn’t, you did,” she said, hands going numb with the realization that neither one of them must have called to schedule that.

"No, I-“

" _Fuck,_ Erica _-_ “

"Hey, it’s not my fault you-“

"Never mind, go help with the dinner vendor, they need to be set up in the side room until the reception hall is cleared after the ceremony.” Allison rushed off, pulling her phone out, and searching for the bakery’s number. Behind her, she thought she heard Erica call after her, but the phone was already ringing.

Luckily, they were open, but because it was a weekend, they were closing in less than an hour, and had no drivers working that day. “I need you to be open for like, another thirty minutes,” Allison begged.

By the time she got there, the store was officially closed, but the manager and two of the workers had stayed behind to help her load the cakes into the her car. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she kept saying,

Almost immediately upon returning, Kira was asking about the photographer who was supposed to be there half an hour ago, and Allison almost cried at the thought of something else almost going wrong, when the photographer themself walked through the doors. Directing the caterer’s staff to take care of the cakes, Allison turned to the photographer, “You should be photographing the preparation of the brides people. We talked about what we wanted you to photograph. Kira, can you show him?”

When she nodded, Allison sighed with relief, head pounding.

Her relief only lasted so long when she caught sight of Erica and Boyd down the hall. Erica was holding on to one of his hands, using the other one to pinch his nose. He was making a face at her, but it was clear they were joking around. Allison couldn’t help but stare, remembering Erica’s hands on her, one her thighs, in her hair. Finally, Erica leaned up and kissed his cheek, to which he jerked away from, seeming to pretend to by disgusted. She could hear Erica’s laughter even from where she stood, shouting, “You know you love me!”

Turning away, Allison ignored the numbness in her chest, taking a deep breath, and trying to banish the image from her mind. 

Once this day was over, once she was able to go back home, sleep in her own bed, she was going to be a much happier person.

* * *

Somehow, Erica had managed to not be alone with Allison for more than a few minutes at a time before someone came up and needed something or other from one of them. In those few moments they were hurriedly discussing what still needed to be done, when that was exactly not what Erica wanted to be talking about.

Twice she had had the change to maybe talk to her alone. The first time, Isaac had come storming in, complaining about Boyd, something about having set a million alarm clocks to go off, and that he hadn’t gotten any sleep last light, and by the time Erica had managed to shut him up and set him to do something actually useful (“Look at the bags under my eyes!” “I have no sympathy, I told you not to wake him up.”), Allison had been called away to help Derek and Scott with a vendor.

The second time, Allison hurried off to finish something or other, leaving Erica, mouth open and ready, with nothing. 

At three o’clock, Allison and Kira joined Lydia in their dressing room, and Erica, Malia, and Laura ducked into Cora’s. Malia wasn’t actually a bridesmaid, as Cora and Lydia had agreed on two brides’ people each and one person of honor, but she had graciously offered to help them get ready.

"You really need to talk to her,” Cora said, already ready to go.        

Erica kicked off her jeans, perhaps more forcefully that she needed to. “Yeah, well, it’s impossible to talk to her when she’s running around getting shit done.”

"Everything is finished now, isn’t it?” Cora said.

Realizing what she meant, Erica jumped up, heading towards the door, only to be stopped by Laura. “Laura-“ Erica started, but was cut off.

"First of all, you’re in your bra and panties, second of all, you need your hair and make up done, third of all, I don’t know, Allison is getting ready too and doesn’t need you to dump this on her when she needs to be focusing.”

Knowing Laura to be right, but not liking it, Erica stuck her tongue out, and flopped down in front of one of the mirrors. Malia came up behind her, mostly dressed, and started brushing her hair, long fingers massaging her neck, and letting Erica melt into her touch. In the background, Talia had just entered the room, took one look at Cora's eyeliner job and ordered her to take it off so Laura could fix it. 

About twenty minutes after Natalie informed them that they had a half an hour to go, Talia left the dressing room, murmuring something about needing to talk to Lydia. Cora watched her mother go with a peculiar expression on her face, but smiled when she returned a few minutes later, kissing her daughter on the top of her head. They exchanged a few words that Erica couldn't hear, but did hear a whispered, "Thank you," from Cora.

Turning away from her daughter, Talia took a deep breath and announced, "Show time, ladies." Behind her, Boyd, who had just entered coughed. Turning, she smiled at him, "And gent." Going over to Cora, she kissed her forehead, and Erica would swear that she saw Talia Hale tearful when she left the room.

There were three entrances into the hall, one down the middle of the room, and two across from each other on either end of the hall, which was semi-circular with high ceilings and tall windows. Lydia and Cora had decided on this venue because it meant that they would both be able to walk down the isles opposite each other at the same time, meeting at the alter together. It was a really beautiful set up, if Erica did say so herself.

In front of her, Laura, as Cora’s ring bearer was fixing Derek and Boyd’s ties, which were a deep purple the same as Erica’s dress. She knew that on the other side, Scott would be (hopefully) holding on to his ring for Lydia, and Stiles and Kira behind him, and finally Allison.

She had to tell her. She felt like she was going to burst out of her skin, she needed to tell Allison right this second.

Turning to Laura, Erica asked, “How much time until we go on?”

Laura checked her watch, “Um, maybe like three minutes?

"Great.” Taking off her heels, she gathered up her skirts, and started running.

"Erica Reyes, I am going to kill you!” Cora yelled after her, but she didn’t stop.

The hall wasn’t exceptionally large, so Erica made it to the other side in a matter of seconds, and was greeted by a chorus of whispered, “Is everything all right, what’s going on?” 

Erica waved the off, focusing on Allison. Allison, who was looking at her as though she were nuts.

“Look, I know we had our argument, but I just wanted to tell you that I really do like you a lot." Allison's eyebrows shot up, lipsticked mouth dropping. Next to them, Lydia's entourage made quiet noises of surprise, and Erica thought it was amazing that somehow they had managed to keep this a secret from everyone besides Lydia and Cora.  "I do. The bet with Boyd was just some stupid offhanded joke because I’m a predictable dumbass, and he was making fun of me, it didn’t have anything to actually do with you really-“

The music on the other side of the doors had started, and the door opened, Scott starting to go.

Allison was staring at her, brown eyes blown wide with surprise and horror, but Erica didn’t have time to think about why that was. She plowed on, because the next part was the part that she thought really mattered, the part she _needed_ Allison to understand.

"I know we agreed to keep this professional, and I really want to respect those wishes, but I just wanted to tell you those things, because I thought maybe you might change your mind if knew what actually happened. Because I like you a lot, I do. And If you don’t like me back, that’s fine, I’ll take it, but please-“

"Erica, I am going down the isle now,” Stiles, second in the order, whispered to her and she ignored him. Allison was still staring at her, mouth agape. Kira prepared to go down the isle.

"You have to go,” Lydia told her, not unkindly.

Hands numb with nerves, Erica looked to Allison. “Just think about it, please,” before taking off.

By the time she got back to the other side, Boyd was just leaving, and Erica barely had enough time to get her heels on before she had to go. As she was slipping them on, Cora whispered to her, “Well?”

"I don’t know,” Erica responded. She hoped, but she didn’t know.


	9. Chapter 9

“Ally, you’re up,” Lydia whispered to her.

Allison nodded numbly, Erica’s words running through her head.

She really had been any idiot, hadn’t she? This whole time, Erica had been trying to tell her, and she just wouldn’t listen.

Straightening her shoulders, she stepped through the doorway.

The finished hall was beautiful, light streaming through the windows, and filtering through the canopies. They really did look beautiful.      

But not as beautiful who was walking towards her.

The way Lydia and Cora set up the hall, they had it so that the two brides would walk towards each other from opposite ends of the hall, and meet in the middle. That meant Allison had full view of Erica as they walked towards the middle.

She always looked beautiful, but with the soft, evening light on her face, the deep purple of the dresses contrasting with her pale skin, she looked positively radiant.

Allison could not believe how much of an idiot she had been.

By the time they met in the middle, Erica was beaming at her, but Allison found it difficult to return it, her hands shaking, and head whirling with the revelation of what Erica had told her.

She was no stranger to relationships, having dated and hooked up with people in the past. She had loved, and cried, and had wonderful whirling relationships with people. So what was so startling about Erica?

Admittedly, she had never found herself falling in love (could she really say that she was falling in love? Less than twenty four hours ago she could barely stand being in Erica’s presence, never mind admit to really liking her) with someone she had hated and then had angry sex with. Really good angry sex, but angry sex nonetheless.

A different day, maybe in the years to come, Allison might blame it on the atmosphere. Weddings were wrought with emotions and romance, surely that had to have had some influence on how she felt. But Allison didn’t feel like she was being swept away by anything. In all honesty, Allison had never felt more grounded, despite how confused Erica made her feel. She knew who she was, and she knew how she felt. It was all a matter of Erica, and what surprises she may come up with.

Erica made her angry, and Erica made her heart pound in a way that only marathons did. The way she teased made Allison so comfortable, unafraid to laugh or be ridiculous. Her frustration towards Erica for being stubborn, for being ridiculous, was outweighed only by her admiration for what Erica could do, and her delight when she surprised her. Allison wanted to keep being surprised by her.

She barely noticed when Lydia and Cora walked down the isle, though the entire reception stood and whispered when they did. She didn’t hear a word the minister spoke as she wed Cora and Lydia. Allison barely noticed when Lydia smiled at her with tears in her eyes, her hand clasped with Cora’s. She knew that Erica’s eyes were on her, and she knew that she could not bear to look at her yet.

For one thing, she was a little furious at Erica for telling her this _right before they walked down the isle_. This day was supposed to be about Lydia and Cora, and, ugh, but she couldn’t fault Erica for that, hard as she tried.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the minister said.

Allison smiled, watching her friends finally able to kiss as wives. Lydia’s hands came up to cup Cora’s face, and they both smiled into the chaste kiss. Cora whispered something to Lydia, but it was too quiet to hear over the clapping of the congregation. 

Laughing, they waved to their families and friends, before starting down the center isle to leave.

When they passed their parents, they were stopped, and pulled into tight hugs each. Talia was quick to hug Lydia when Natalie let her go, smiling wide, and cupping her face in her hands, saying something Allison couldn’t hear. Lydia hugged her a second time, tight. 

The brides’ entourages were supposed to wait and then fall into step with their counterpart on the other side to file out behind them.

Allison held her breath as she followed Erica’s lead, walking next to her. More than once, Erica's elbow brushed against hers, the barest of touches, and still, Allison was aware of it as though she had set her arm on fire.

Once out of the hall, Lydia and Cora were very suddenly hugging her and the others, shrieks of joy and words of excitement being exchanged. Her hug with Lydia lingered slightly longer than the others, and she wrapped her arms around her best friend, hearing a whispered, "I love you, thank you so much, I'm so happy." When Lydia pulled away, Allison saw tears in her eyes, which she quickly wiped away, looking at Cora.

"Okay,” Lydia called finally, taking a deep breath. “The venue staff are going to clear the chairs and replace them with tables, and then we’ll do first dances, and then we’re going to do dinner-“ Stiles groaned a loud ‘Finally!’ “- as I don’t think the pre-wedding cocktails did much except get certain family members tipsy. Okay, great.” She turned to Cora, as if none of the others were there any more, and kissed her.

Allison turned away to give them some privacy, only to be face to face with Erica. “Hey,” she said, and she looked surprisingly vulnerable.

"Hey,” Allison said softly.

"Can we talk?”

Everything Allison had thought about, walking down that isle, standing on that alter watching her best friends get married, flew out of her mind. Allison will be the first to admit that sometimes, she doesn't like to face the way she feels about things, preferring to avoid other people if she senses a weakness, or the possibility of weakness. She wasn't afraid to admit she liked Erica, maybe more than she anticipated, but would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of being rejected- even if Erica had already told her how she felt.

Suddenly overcome with panic, Allison shook her head, “I should help them set up the tables, and-“

“Allison!” Erica said loudly, and she stopped talking, her mouth closing with a snap. “They’ll be fine without you, please, can we talk?” Her voice was quieter then. She gestured away from their friends, a few of whom were watching them but pretending they weren’t.

Nodding, Allison followed her down the stairs. “Not into the closet this time,” Erica said with a wry smile. They simply stood at the bottom of the staircase, still able to hear the voices of their friends and families upstairs.

Finding it hard to smile when she felt so jittery, Allison said, “So.”

"So.” Erica looked nervous, not at all like the beaming woman who had walked down the isle towards her.

Playing with the petals of her bouquet, Allison tried to think of something to say. “You said, you said you liked me.” How juvenile it sounded aloud. Allison felt as though she were in middle school again, sequestered away on the playground with her crush. 

Erica jumped on that thread of a conversation, “Yes! Yes, Allison, I’m sorry it came off so…” she seemed to search for a word, but waved her hand when she couldn’t find it. “You know I am, well, I guess, known for hooking up with people. It’s just what I like to do, and I’ve never had a problem with it.” Allison’s heart sank, thinking she was about to hear about how what had happened didn’t matter. “But! But-“ Erica said quickly, “I thought this was going to be another hook up, and I’m not saying those people didn’t matter, because they do, but it wasn’t just another hook up, is what I’m trying to get at.”

Erica seemed to be stumbling, trying to find the fastest way to say what she wanted to say, but was getting turned around. Allison found it rather endearing, once she figured out what it was she was being told.

"Well, anyways, Boyd made some off handed joke about how I often end up sleeping with people even if I don’t like them, and I was complaining about not getting along with you and he said something like, ‘how much you want to bet you two end up sleeping together by the end of the weekend,’ and I told him no chance, but anyways, it wasn’t like we had planned something to hurt you or anything, it wasn’t even supposed to mean anything.”

Alison, who was pretty sure she had followed everything Erica had said, nodded with relief. She was no stranger to their friends and their antics, and it sounded exactly like something Boyd and Erica would joke about.

But then a thought struck her, and with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, couldn’t believe she had forgotten about it. “But aren’t you back together with Boyd?” Remembering them in the hall, so close…

Erica looked confused, and then realized what she meant. “No! I mean, we came as dates, because we thought that was going to be a problem, but like you, Isaac, and Derek all came without dates, and there is really no point in having a date unless you’re at a wedding with people you feel the need to show up, but we’re all friends here, so it didn’t matter.” She shrugged. “I love Boyd, but we’re just friends."

The relief that Allison felt was palpable, and of course, the embarrassment. If she had just waited, actually listened the way she tried to do, all this would have been so much simpler. Instead, she lost her temper, and, wounded pride in tow, avoided Erica at all costs.      

"And look, I know you and I haven’t really gotten along-“

"That’s an understatement,” Allison muttered.

"Let me finish please. You’re full of yourself and moody, and I’m a bitch, but I think we make a pretty good team. I mean, look at how well we pulled off this wedding. And maybe I did need a really angry fuck to get my shit together and realize that I actually really like you. I mean, I think I liked you before, but maybe not, maybe I truly hated you before, but who cares? That was then, this is now, and Allison Argent, I’d really like to get to know you, clothing optional, in a serious, romantic way.”

Allison couldn’t tell if Erica had rehearsed her speech or not, but Allison sure hadn’t prepared a response, so all she was able to say was, “You’re serious?”          

“I literally _just_ said-“

"Okay,” Allison interrupted.

"Like, literally, just said- wait, what?”

 “Okay,” Allison repeated. She had to keep it simple, or she was afraid that her voice would shake with restrained elation.

 Eyeing her uncertainly, Erica asked, “’Okay,’ as in ‘okay I don’t hate you,’ ‘okay I still don’t want to maybe go out with you,’ ‘okay that’s nice Erica please get out of my face,’-“

" _Okay_ ,” Allison interrupted. “As in: Okay, Reyes, I like you too, and right now, I really wouldn’t mind going upstairs and dancing with you. But,” and here she raised a finger imperiously, “I expect to be romanced.”

Erica seemed to sag with relief, a smile spreading across her face. When she smiled as wide as she did, her nose crinkled in an adorable way and Allison couldn’t believe she was only just now noticing it. Holding out her hand, Erica said, “Argent, I am going to romance you so hard.”

Upstairs, the music for Lydia and Cora’s first dance was just starting, and Erica and Allison sidled in next to Derek to watch.

They were glowing, unable, it seemed, to stop smiling at each other. Cora had signed up to take dance lessons at Lydia’s request, and while she was a little clumsy, they looked like they were having too much fun delighting in each other’s presence to care. The stiff waltz they started out with quickly dissolved into something personal, something Allison could see them doing in their socks at one in the morning, a beaming, twirling mess.

When the music shifted, and other couples started to step out on the floor, Erica turned to Allison and offered her hand. Smiling, Allison took it, letting herself be tugged out on to the floor.

Almost immediately, Erica pulled her closer, “Is this okay?” she asked. Allison nodded, her hand falling on Erica’s shoulder, as she was the taller of the two.

“You know,” Allison said quietly. “I never told you how beautiful you looked walking down that isle.” The soft light of the hall, lit by the golden light fixtures that had been Cora's favorite in determining which venue they chose, cast Erica's face in warmth and only worked to accentuate her features. 

Allison was surprised to see her blush, and Erica said, “Really? Because I was going for gorgeous.”

Laughing, Allison shook her head. “You look gorgeous,” she said. “You always look gorgeous.”

Over Erica shoulder, Lydia caught Allison’s eye briefly and smiled encouragingly, before turning her attention back to Cora.

When the song ended, there was a long pause as the DJ waited for Lydia to explain what the plan for the rest of the evening was going to be. But still, they swayed, pressing close together.

Finally, Erica stopped them, and if Allison was a little dizzy, it was because they had been going in a circle, not because she found it hard to breathe deeply when she was so close to Erica. “I really like you,” Erica said quietly, leaning down slowly.

“I really like you too,” Allison whispered, her heart hammering, her lips barely brushing Erica’s.

Giving her more than enough time to pull away if that wasn’t what she wanted, Erica pressed her lips against Allison’s, soft and gentle, the opposite of their frenzied, rough coupling the night before. Erica’s lips were easy, giving slightly more pressure to deepen the kiss, and Allison found it difficult not to push them further.

“Achem,” Lydia’s voice called from the platform upon which the DJ was set up. Breaking apart quickly, they turned to look at her. Allison’s face went red, and she had to focus very hard on looking at Lydia and not her sniggering friends. Erica’s hand found hers, and clasped it tight. “Anyways, the plan for the evening…”

While Lydia talked, Erica leaned down and whispered in Allison’s ear, “Later tonight, do you want to, maybe…”

“Are you inviting me up to your room?” She whispered back, trying to look like she was still paying attention to what Lydia was saying.

“Since we share a room, I don’t think an invitation is really necessary.”

"Then are you inviting me to your bed?”

"That one I can and do extend an invite to,” Erica said, but quickly added, “Unless you want to move this slower. We can go slowly if you want. Slow as you please, that’s all right with me.”         

Smiling, Allison kissed Erica’s cheek, a faint mark from her lipstick lingering longer. “I accept, and look forward to later tonight.”

Grinning, Erica leaned down, and pressed her lips against Allison’s, longer than the kiss before, and if there was a little swipe of her tongue, Allison wasn’t going to complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to Maliatae, and everyone involved in the femslash exchange! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it as well.


End file.
